


A Place to Put My Heartache (Across Six Christmases)

by BigSciencyBrain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas fic, Loki's a mess, M/M, Male Slash, Steve's a good guy, but vagued it up, this fic is not a sex ed lesson, this is as fluffy as I will ever get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 77,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's still trying to find his place in this world.  Accidentally saving Loki's life doesn't help.  But maybe there's a place for both of them, together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written fluff or anything emotionally-driven before, so this was a real challenge for me. I just love this pairing so much and think that it really lends itself to a sweetness that the other pairings don't, so I wanted to try my hand at creating that. Practice, practice, practice, right?

A gentle summer breeze brought the smell of lilacs and salt spray through the cracked window. The sun was a full hand into the sky already. Steve Rogers had been awake for hours but, after the resurgence of HYDRA activity and the latest round with Doctor Doom, it felt too good to just be still.

The intercom in the wall buzzed and Tony Stark’s voice shattered the perfect quiet. “Daylight’s a-wasting, Cap.”

It had been good while it lasted.

Steve pushed himself up and out of bed. Once he was moving, it was easy to fall into the usual routine. He still showered in under two minutes and was fully dressed in under five. He left the guest room wearing khaki shorts and a white t-shirt, flip flops slapping against the tile as he walked. This was Tony’s beach house, one of many, and Tony had a strict dress code. 

“Morning, Cap,” Natasha said without looking up from her coffee and the day’s newspaper.

“Are you guys ever going to call me Steve?” he asked mildly as he reached for the coffee pot. “We’re on vacation.”

“Avengers don’t take vacations,” she corrected.

Clint was grinning as he entered the kitchen through the French doors that lead out to the deck; he was already coated with sand and salt from surfing. “No one’s come up with any good nicknames for you yet.”

Steve pulled a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. “Tony calls me plenty of names.” 

“The workplace appropriate kind.” Clint winked before he opened the fridge and half disappeared into it as he hunted for either breakfast or lunch, depending on how long he’d been out.

“Well, as long as the world isn’t ending--”

“Cap!” Clint’s head snapped out around the refrigerator door. “You didn’t.”

“He did,” Natasha sighed, shaking her head and making quiet tsk-tsk sounds against her teeth.

“Wait, what?” Steve looked back and forth between them, confused. “What did I do?”

“Jinxed us. Now the world’s gonna end.” Clint disappeared again, reappearing with a stack of plastic bins in his arms. He kicked the doors shut with his heel and unloaded his bounty onto the kitchen counter. “Everyone knows as soon as you say that, boom. Anything goes wrong today, Cap, and it’s your fault.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. He sipped at the coffee and savored the natural sweetness. The others teased him about not adding sugar and cream, but he still couldn’t believe it was actually coffee. It sure wasn’t the coffee he’d been used to during the War. He followed after Clint, piling a plate high with whatever leftovers were appealing; Tony’s idea of a quiet vacation getaway involved a caterer. He closed up each plastic bin when he was done and put them away, knowing Clint would forget and leave them out. Sure enough, as soon as he’d eaten, Clint was headed back out to the ocean with single-minded determination.

“You enable him,” Natasha said with disapproval.

“I don’t mind.” Steve put the last of the leftovers away, gathered up his coffee and the plate of cold macaroni salad and a thrown together sandwich, and took a seat at the end of the bar. “Where is Tony anyway?”

“Out on his yacht trying to catch something.” 

Steve wasn’t the only one who wasn’t particularly interested in sharing Tony’s latest obsession with sport fishing. He was mildly irritated that Tony would wake him up from the yacht, however, rather than be there to do it in person, but that was typical Tony. He ate without hurrying, still a concept he was getting used to, and washed it all down with more coffee. Once he was done, he added the dirty dishes to the dishwasher. It was full, so he added a pack of cleaning detergent and set it going.  


He was more than a little proud that he’d learned how to run a dishwasher. It was about the only piece of machinery or electronics in any of Stark’s houses or buildings that he knew how to work.

Pepper came in from the patio; she was wearing a pale blue sundress that reminded Steve of the ocean. “Good morning, Steve. Tony and I thought you might want to do some sightseeing. There’s a full tank of gas in the convertible and I brought home all the maps I could get my hands on.” She was smiling so brightly; Steve could see exactly why Tony loved her. Before he could protest, she was pulling out handfuls of maps and brochures from her woven beach bag. “There’s so much to see and Tony said you’d never been to California before.”

“That’s right, ma’am. Thank you.” He accepted the brochures and maps, spreading them out neatly on the counter. Natasha leaned over, cupping her coffee mug like it was a lifeline, to get a better look at them. He smiled because he knew Tony would have handed him a cell phone with all the maps programmed into it and rolled his eyes when Steve couldn’t get it to work, but Pepper knew he felt more at ease with paper in his hands. Nodding to the colorful spread, he asked Natasha, “Want to tag along?”

“As lovely as the offer is, Cap, I’ve got a date with some sun tan lotion.” 

Pepper held out the car keys. “JARVIS is connected to the car, don’t ask me how, that’s Tony’s department. If you get lost, just let him know and he’ll guide you home.”

Steve accepted the keys gratefully and spent nearly an hour pouring over all of the maps and pamphlets. Finally, he grabbed one of the many beach bags lying around and simply dumped them all in. He packed a couple extra sandwiches in a small cooler and took a bag of apples and oranges, along with a six pack of bottled water. The silver convertible was waiting outside and he tried not to shudder at the thought of driving it as he piled his supplies in the passenger seat. He’d only had a driver’s license for a few months and all of Tony’s cars cost more than he could even imagine. 

Carefully, focused completely on not damaging the car or even getting the paint dirty, Steve got the convertible turned around and started down the drive. His plan was to just keep going. Looking over the maps was enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t get lost, but he didn’t have a goal in mind. Maybe a lighthouse, maybe a museum, maybe he’d stop somewhere and try the barbequed clams that Clint raved about. 

He wanted to see where the road could take him.

Within a half hour, he reached Highway One and headed north up the California coast. Other cars passed him, but he only waved and maintained a cautious speed. There was too much to see and every curve in the road seemed to bring more beauty. Long before his stomach started to growl, he was wishing he’d brought his sketchbook and pencils, even though he didn’t think he could do the landscape justice. 

He was along a winding stretch of the highway where the coastline alternated between cliffs and secluded beaches when he saw a streak of bright fire against the blue sky. Heart pounding, he watched it arc and dive toward the ocean. The object hit the water; he could see the splash even from his distance. Pressing the accelerator as far down as he dared, he searched for the nearest pullout and parked the car in a patch of gravel.

“JARVIS?” he asked as before he shut off the engine.

“Yes, Captain?” came the familiar voice of the Stark artificial intelligence.

“Do I need to worry about the car getting stolen?”

“It will be perfectly safe, sir.”

That was good enough for Steve. He put the top up, with a little prompting from JARVIS, and made sure the car was locked before he headed to the opposite side of the road. There was a narrow strip of sandy beach at the base of the cliffs near where the meteor had struck. It was a climb; the rocks were slick with sea spray and moss. He was panting when he reached the bottom. His flip flops sank into the wet sand so he stripped them off and continued barefoot. 

Hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun off the water, he tried to pinpoint the exact location of impact. A dark shape was floating in the water about fifty yards out. It took him a moment to realize that it was the shape of a man.

He was running before he could think and diving into the clear, cold water; he forced himself not think about the last time he ended up in the water. His strokes were steady, even, eating up the distance between him and the man. Bits of cloth came apart in his hands as he reached for the man – he thought it was a man – and disintegrated in his fingers. Clutching half blindly, he finally got his arm around the man’s shoulders and rolled him onto his back to start back toward the shore. As soon as his feet touched solid ground, he was scrambling and dragging the man up onto the sand.

More cloth fell away in wet ashes and he could see ugly burns and wounds over the man’s arms and chest. He stripped the fabric away and pressed his ear to the damaged skin. There was a faint heartbeat but his chest didn’t rise and fall. With grim determination, Steve moved into position and began artificial respiration. As he breathed into the man’s mouth, his mind finally began to ask questions.

What happened? Was the man struck by whatever fell? Maybe a shockwave from the impact knocked him into the water. He couldn’t have been in the water long if his heart was still beating.

He heard a sound in the man’s throat and pulled back an instant before water came streaming out of his mouth. Easing the man onto his side, Steve grimaced as he saw more burns and long, ugly gashes cut through skin and what was left of the fabric on the man’s back. For several minutes, the man gasped and coughed and choked on water. 

“Easy, easy,” Steve said gently. “You’re in bad shape. I’m going to go for help.”

As he moved to stand, a hand clamped down around his arm with surprising strength. With a groan of pain, the man fell back onto the sand, eyes open for the first time; bright, green eyes that shone with cold, burning anger and something that looked like fear. The muscles in his throat worked beneath damaged skin but no words left his lips.

Steve froze. Even with the angry, red burns covering most of the man’s face, he knew those eyes; knew them from nightmares and news footage and a dozen SHIELD briefings. 

“Loki?” 

He searched for any sign of attack, of magic, of anything he knew came along whenever Thor’s brother was involved. Instead, Loki’s head fell back into the sand. Chunks of his hair had been burned away almost to the scalp. His eyes closed and his grip on Steve’s arm lessened; all of Loki’s strength seeming to evaporate. Only the rise and fall of his chest gave any indication that he was still alive. Exactly how he was alive, or on Earth, was a question that Steve couldn’t answer. He took in the burns, the leather that was all but ashes, and the twisted, melted bits of metal still wrapped around Loki’s body. It was impossible, but he couldn’t think of another explanation.

Loki was the meteorite.

That didn’t explain the criss-crossing wounds on his back, each perfectly straight and even; those hadn’t been made by the fall. Steve rocked back on his heels, watching Loki breathe and frowning as he tried to piece together a puzzle without knowing the final picture.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, not expecting an answer. 

A mortal man wouldn’t have survived a fall through the Earth’s atmosphere and he was even a little surprised that an Asgardian had, but there was a lot that SHIELD didn’t know about Asgard and its population. He looked up at the cliffs, trying to decide if there was any way he could get Loki back up to the road and into the car without injuring him any further. With no easy way to carry Loki with him, it didn’t seem likely. He was reluctant to leave; how could he be sure Loki would even be there when he got back? He gently pulled Loki’s fingers from his arm, they were just as burned and blood red as the rest of him, and went in search of another way back up. 

The nearest gap in the cliffs was nearly a half mile down the rocky shore and it was still a climb. Steve made it anyway and jogged back down the road to the car. He stopped to cautiously peer over the edge of the cliff. Loki was still lying on the beach below; the waves seemed to be coming closer than he remembered. Frowning, he hurried to the car and turned the key in the ignition to get JARVIS back.

“JARVIS?” he asked as he fumbled with the cooler and the bottles of water. The beach bag would be easier to carry, so he filled it as full as he could. “Can you tell the others to come to this location?”

“Of course, sir.” A beat. “Are you injured? Is there an emergency?”

“Just tell them,” he paused, unsure that his message wouldn’t sound completely crazy. “Tell them I pulled someone out of the ocean. They’re injured and need help. I have to get back down there, the tide’s coming in and they can’t walk on their own.”

“I will notify Mr. Stark immediately.”

“Thanks.” He made sure the car was locked and secured before he headed back toward the gap in the cliffs, bag in hand.

He focused on the immediate course of action. He had to get Loki off of the beach and away from the incoming tide. There was already more water around his feet than there had been when he was going the other way and soon the tiny beach would be submerged. He scanned for higher ground as he went, looking for signs of rock that hadn’t been touched by water; he needed an escape route that was doable with the weight of a man on his back. Water swirled and tugged at his ankles by the time he reached the narrow beach and it had already risen to Loki’s knees.

He thought the burns on Loki’s skin might look less terrible than he’d originally thought.

“Right,” he said more to remind himself that he was here for a purpose than anything else. He didn’t want to be the one explaining that he let Loki drown the next time Thor came to visit. If he were a betting man, he’d guess that a visit from Thor wasn’t too far off, since Loki was supposed to be imprisoned on Asgard instead of lying on a beach in California.

After a quick search, muttering apologies to the unconscious man, he found a couple lengths of leather that seem sturdy enough and peeled them away from Loki’s body as gently as he could. He stripped off his shirt to make up the difference and had enough material to fashion a poor man’s sling. He’d need his hands to scale the rock to the north since the way south was already filled with water. Leather and fabric looped around Loki’s shoulders, then his own. It was awkward and slow; he heard breath hiss between Loki’s teeth in an unmistakable sound of pain and muttered an apology. When Loki’s weight was settled on his back, he tied the leather straps together across his chest with his t-shirt and eased into a standing position. Loki was taller by a of couple inches and his feet dragged through the sand behind them.

Steve started up the rock face, gripping against jagged rock, clusters of barnacles, and small shelled creatures that he couldn’t name. Masses of dead seaweed were slick and he had to stop to dislodge them before he could continue. He reached the top of the first cliff and moved horizontally, aiming for a patch of grassy bluff that looked like a way up. At least, it’d be away from the water.

When he reached it, it was nothing more than a gap in the cliffs with sheer rock all around. He had two choices, climb down and try further north or stop and wait. 

He decided to wait. The others would be here soon enough and the tide couldn’t reach them here.

It took more doing to detangle himself and Loki from the sling. He eased Loki down onto the relatively dry grass. He sat down beside him, leaning his back against the cliff and gazing out at the ocean sparkling below. He dug one of the sandwiches out of the bag. When he first heard it, the sound was so quiet that he almost didn’t believe his ears.

“Water.”

He swallowed quickly, hastily shoving the rest of the sandwich back in to the wrapping. Loki’s eyes were still closed and he wasn’t moving. Steve undid the cap on one of the water bottles and moved to Loki’s side, suddenly awkward. Finally, he slid a hand behind Loki’s head and pulled him up as far as he dared. When he was sure that he wasn’t simply going to drown Loki himself, he tipped the bottle and poured water, a swallow at a time, into Loki’s mouth. He could see the motion in Loki’s throat as he drank, but his eyes stayed closed.

When the bottle was empty, he set it aside and placed Loki’s head back against the grass. He almost told Loki that it would be okay, that the others would be here soon. Then he remembered it was Loki. There was silence, broken only by the cry of the seagulls above them, for a long time. At least it felt like a long time to Steve as he sat there, watching Loki breathe.

“How did you get here?” he asked, but he didn’t expect an answer. Loki’s being here meant he’d managed to escape Asgard, escape Thor, escape Odin, and travel vast distances across space. 

Again, Loki’s voice was whisper soft and he couldn’t quite be sure he heard it at all. “Soldier.”

“At least you remember me,” Steve said with a half-hearted smile. He dug back into the bag for the second sandwich. “Can you eat? I’ve got a sandwich and some fruit. Nothing to cut the apples with though. Maybe an orange.” There was no answer so he settled for an orange. He peeled away the rind and broke it into sections, then broke each section into smaller pieces. Gently, half expecting Loki to try to bite him, he fed each small piece of orange to him and made sure he didn’t choke on it.

He heard the sound of cars far above them, but none of them stopped nearby. When the sun began to start toward the horizon, he decided that he must’ve gone too far from the car for the others to find. And since he hadn’t told JARVIS it was Loki he’d pulled from the ocean, there was no reason for Stark to bring the suit. He’d have to climb up and get back to the road, but he wasn’t going to be making that trip with Loki on his back.

“Look, I have to go get help. You need medical attention.” He emptied the food and water from the bag and placed it near enough for Loki to reach. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

The cliff face was rough and treacherous, but he managed his way up foot by foot. When he reached the top, barefoot and shirtless, he realized that he was more than a mile from the car. In the far distance, he could see at least one more car near the convertible and it looked like there was an ambulance. He started into an easy jog that closed the distance between him and the others in a matter of minutes.

Tony was the first to see him. He dropped his sunglasses down his nose as Steve neared. “And there’s our good Samaritan.”

“Tony, thanks.” He slowed and held his hands up. “No need for the ambulance, sorry. Everything’s under control.”

“Steve,” Tony started, a mixture of annoyance and amusement in his voice. “You tell JARVIS you just pulled someone out of the ocean and you don’t think they need an ambulance?”

“They’re not from around here,” Steve said, smiling apologetically as the EMTs stared at him.

“Did someone wash up in a bottle or something?”

“Something. Normally when these guys show up, there’s a storm. You know, lightning, thunder.” Steve didn’t know how else he was supposed tell Tony what was going on. He could see the distant shapes of Natasha and Clint further down the road. “Look, I’m really sorry you guys came all the way out here for nothing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony interrupted; he was still looking at Steve, suspicious and wary. “Just send me the bill. Thanks.” He was all smiles and small talk as the EMTs packed up and got back into the ambulance. Then he rounded on Steve, his expression serious. “Asgard? Or someone new?”

“Loki.”

Of course, Loki was gone by the time Steve and Tony got back to the where Steve had left him. He climbed down to collect the beach bag left behind and noted that the food and water were missing. There was an indentation in the grass where Loki had been, but no sign of the Asgardian. Frustrated and feeling foolish, he climbed back up and waited for the inevitable lecture from Tony to begin. Instead, he found Tony with a cell phone against his ear.

“No sign of him,” Steve panted.

“He can’t have gone far, injured like that.” Tony peered out over the edge. “But SHIELD doesn’t think he’ll stay injured for long. Asgardians are hard to kill.”

“I should’ve told JARVIS who it was.”

“No, you were right. That wasn’t an encrypted channel.” He straightened up and the tension in his shoulders eased a little. “Didn’t think the convertible needed one. Just goes to show.”

“Now what?”

“SHIELD is sending a team. If he’s anywhere on the California coast, they’ll find him.” He turned to scan the coastline. “Natasha and Clint are never going to let you live this one down.”

“What?”

“You jinxed us, Cap.”


	2. Christmas the First

SHIELD didn’t find Loki.

After six months, the search wasn’t so much called off as put into a holding pattern. All eyes and ears stayed open and everyone figured it was only a matter of time before Loki showed his face. Even more strange, there were no visits from Thor; no thundering or coming to tell them about his brother escaping from Asgard.

Steve could almost believe he’d fallen asleep on the beach and dreamed it all. He half expected everyone else to wonder if he’d lost his mind.

Other things took priority; Doom sent a legion of new and improved Doombots that seemed to go straight for Bruce, searching for the Hulk’s weaknesses. They didn’t find any and Steve spent an afternoon helping clear away the bits and pieces of the smashed Doombots from the streets of New York City. He kept his uniform on; SHIELD didn’t like the press but the mayor of New York did and Steve didn’t mind that they used some of the pictures in part of a campaign to help reduce litter on the streets. One way or another, he was helping to clean up his city.

Captain America was the Old; Iron Man was the New. And Stark was dancing monkey enough for both of them, so Steve figured a few pictures of him with a broom weren’t going to hurt. 

“Hey, Captain of the street-sweepers, you going to be done anytime soon?” Tony’s voice sounded in his ear.

“About there, Stark,” Steve answered. He handed the broom off to one of the SHIELD sweepers; they’d learned the hard way not to let pieces of Doombots fall into the hands of the general public. “You need something?”

“Round two headed your way.”

“Round two?” He looked up, scanning the streets for any sign of more of Doom’s playthings. 

Sure enough, there was a monstrous Doombot lumbering down the street, tossing cars and unlucky pedestrians alike as it moved. It was taller and wider than the previous bots, nearly two stories at the shoulders, and it didn’t appear to be focused on anything other than tearing apart the city. 

“So what were the other guys, the warm up? Where’s Banner?” His shield slid onto his arm. One eye on the robot, he shepherded a group of tourists inside a building and told them to stay away from the windows. 

Stark had already arrived and there were smoking tracks of scorched metal across the robot’s back to prove it. Clint and Natasha were running distraction, which doubled as an effective method of getting the remaining civilians out of the way. Steve sent his shield flying; it ricocheted against the wall of a building and struck the robot right between the eyes before it came flying back. Still, they weren’t doing much more than slowing it down until the Hulk could return.

One of the robot’s great arms connected with Steve’s chest and he felt the impact jar every inch of his body, then he was jarred again when he hit the brick wall behind him. Grunting with pain and the air knocked out of his lungs, he tumbled down to the sidewalk.

“What the?” Tony sounded startled. “You guys seeing this?”

Steve looked up, wiping the back of his hand against his cheek. There was blood smeared out on his glove. As he stood up, he saw what Tony was talking about. Doom’s robot was stuck fast to the street and thick ice was climbing up its limbs with frightening speed. Metal shrieked and groaned as the ice encapsulated the entire thing, freezing it solid. Tony flew down close enough to rap against ice; the sound was dull and hollow.

“It’s getting colder,” Tony commented as he landed on the sidewalk. His face shield slid up. “Which one of you guys have freezing powers you haven’t shared with the rest of the team?”

As though in response, the ice shuddered and then began to crack. As it shattered, it took the robot apart with it, ripping huge chunks of metal as though it were fine china. It crumbled into a pile of scrap metal, electronics, and razor sharp ice. Behind the pile stood a familiar figure in gold and green armor, two curving horns rising up from his helmet. There was a staff in his hand, long and black, unlike the scepter he’d used in the Chitauri attack.

“Loki,” Steve breathed.

Then he was gone.

“Well, that was,” Tony started, looking around. “Weird. Anyone else think that was weird?”

“Can’t say I’m glad to see he’s back,” Clint said. He glanced at Steve and shook his head. “You had to pull him out of the ocean.”

“Speaking of. I never asked.” Tony turned to Steve and raised an eyebrow. “Did you give the God of Mischief mouth to mouth when you saved his life?”

Steve started forward, refusing to admit that, yes, he had, and ignoring Tony’s hoots of laughter. He picked his way through the bits and pieces of ice and metal. The electronics inside Doom’s machines never made any sense to him. 

At this rate, he was going to be cleaning until the sun went down.

As he tossed bits of the robot into the back of a SHIELD salvage truck, he couldn’t help but wonder at Loki’s motives. Why freeze the Doom monster and destroy it? Had Loki simply arrived to say hello and show them all that he was back? Not for the first time, he wished Thor had come to Earth to tell them how Loki had escaped and maybe give them a heads up on what else Loki was able to do. The last time, Loki hadn’t frozen anything solid and, other than his disappearing tricks, they hadn’t seen all that much of his abilities with magic.

Why hadn’t Loki attacked them? Taking out the robot might even be interpreted as helping them.

He brushed that idea aside and tossed it into the salvage truck along with another piece of scrap metal. Loki had a reputation for mischief that was nearly a thousand years old; there would always be the possibility that he was messing with them just because he could.

Debriefing took longer than usual; SHIELD was particularly interested in Loki’s appearance and he had to answer all of the same questions over again. He lost count of how many times he told them that he never should have left Loki alone. No one seemed to blame him, but there was always the unspoken _what if_ in their voice. If Steve had been carrying a cell phone, if he’d thought to tell JARVIS that it was Loki; there were more than enough ifs and now all of them carried the potential for violence and the death of innocent people. 

They went over the footage of Loki on the Helicarrier for the thousandth time and he found himself riveted by the still frame shots. Silently, he questioned every single one of them; he didn't voice any of them because he knew that his questions didn’t matter. During the invasion, he hadn’t thought to ask why Loki was trying to destroy the Earth; his only concern had been finding the Tesseract and stopping the invasion. He’d known what he’d needed to know. He realized now that none of them understood Loki at all.

Everyone was very careful not to say that it was his fault that Loki was still alive.

He ate dinner at the table with the others, but couldn’t keep his attention focused on the conversation around him. After the dishes were cleared away and the dishwasher was running, at least he knew he could handle that much, he found his coat and headed out into the chilly December night. 

At night, New York City was both more different and just the same as he remembered. The noise and the chaos, that was all familiar, even if it came with more neon lights. It was cold, several inches of snow had fallen, and the city was decked out in holiday cheer. He couldn’t help but smile as he passed the Macy’s display; that was familiar at least. He was beginning to think there actually was something to the saying that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

He lost himself in the noise and the chaos, in the New York City that wasn’t his but maybe someday it could be. That was the promise that SHIELD had really given him, more than a shield and a uniform; a world where he might belong. His breath was frost on the air. He stopped at a café to buy hot cocoa and then kept walking, unhurried and uncaring as to his destination. This was New York at Christmas time and it was the city at its most beautiful; he walked and stared, wide-eyed, at all of the lights and wonders. He dropped change into red Salvation Army tins and stopped to get his picture taken with a couple of department store Santas working the evening shift.

Halfway down west 34th, he heard the echo of footsteps that weren’t his own. He kept walking, not ready or willing to attribute it to more than winter and a crowded New York City; too many of his instincts were still tuned to a war long gone and over.

He thought he saw a flash of green in the corner of his eye but it was gone when he turned.


	3. Christmas the Second

The next time Steve saw Loki, it was spring. 

They were chasing AIM scientists who’d attempted to break into the Baxter Building when Loki appeared. He rounded the corner and saw green eyes, black hair and ever-familiar horns curving toward the heavens. There was ferocious anger in those green eyes and Loki’s mouth was set in a bitter smile as sharp and dark as ice. He tried to fight his way through the chaos on the street to where Loki was, but there was only scorched pavement when he finally reached the spot. He pulled the mask away from his face, dragging his fingers through his hair as he stared at the spot where Loki had been. 

“Cap?” Tony asked, slowly lowering to the ground.

“He got away,” Steve said, frustration in his voice that had nothing to do with the fact that Loki had just unleashed half a dozen fire-breathing monsters, allowing the AIM scientists to escape, and then vanished.

He didn’t voice all of the questions in his head. Where had Loki been? What had he been doing all these months? It was his fault that Loki was alive and they were nowhere near understanding why or how Loki was even on Earth to begin with.

“Something is definitely hinky.” Tony kicked at a piece of rubble with his boot. “But it’s not like our dance card was already full with Doom, Skrulls, Kree, AIM, HYDRA, the Enchantress …who am I forgetting?”

Steve sighed. “I wish Thor would show up.”

“Don’t go borrowing trouble, Cap. When Thor shows up, and I’m sure he will, I don’t think it’ll be with good news.”

“You think something’s wrong?”

Tony’s face shield slid up as he turned to face Steve. “I’m guessing Asgard has bigger problems right now. Thor knows we can handle Loki on our own.”

“For now,” Steve agreed. For now, Loki hadn’t done more or less than any of the other villains. It wasn’t particularly reassuring that Thor was unlikely to show up until Loki got serious about getting Asgard’s attention. He didn’t remind Tony that the last time Loki had been serious, Tony himself had nearly paid the ultimate price.

“See you at home.” Tony was gone in a blast of energy.

Debrief was routine; Steve wasn’t sure exactly how killer robots and monsters had ever become routine. The Director’s file on Loki had noticeably thickened and Steve felt a little sick to his stomach thinking about how much thicker it was going to get. He retreated to his room on the residential floor of Stark Tower. Tony kept trying to rename it Avengers tower but there wasn’t enough space along the penthouse balcony to fit that many letters. Whatever it was called, Tony was right, the tower had become home in the two years since they’d first come together in New York City.

He spent the evening sitting in his favorite chair by the windows, sketching without paying much attention to the image taking shape on the page. An hour later, he looked down and realized that he’d sketched a portrait of Loki with the same sharp smile he’d worn that afternoon. The black staff was easily six feet long, though Steve expected that could change as easily as Loki changed his appearance. There was no glowing rock at the end, just a hint at carvings in the surface that Steve hadn’t been close enough to see. He drew another line along the side of the staff and wished he’d been able to get closer. He tried focusing on it, hoping to dredge up more details from his memory.

Instead, he drew five more pictures of Loki standing on the sidewalk with the same sharp edged smile.

“JARVIS,” he said to the empty room. “Where are the others?”

“Agents Romanov and Barton are currently doing reconnaissance for SHIELD. Dr. Banner is not due to return to Stark Tower until tomorrow evening. Mr. Stark is attending a charity gala with Miss Potts.”

Steve glanced over at his desk where his invitation to the gala sat unopened; he never felt comfortable at Tony’s parties. He was used to being the odd man out in the tower more often than not. “I’m headed out. Don’t wait up.”

“Where do you intend to be, Captain Rogers?”

“Doing a little recon of my own. Headed back to where Loki attacked.” He shrugged into a rain jacket and tucked his sketchbook into a messenger bag. Spring in New York was notoriously fickle when it came to the weather; that hadn’t changed either. 

New Yorkers were resilient and, even after the earlier violence, there were pedestrians walking past the bright yellow SHIELD tape as though nothing had happened. Steve ducked beneath the tape and walked the area in a grid, remembering where each of the creatures Loki conjured had appeared. Wyrms, Tony had called them. They’d looked like some sort of combination of lizard and snake to Steve and they spat fire in bursts of napalm slime. Not terribly difficult to kill, Iron Man had smashed most of the wyrms in a matter of minutes. In the last remaining hour of daylight, he sketched out a diagram of each creature’s location along the street and drew a thick circle where Loki had been standing. It might help him anticipate Loki’s moves in the future if he could find a pattern now.

Shadows darkened as the sun went down and he had to give way to the loss of light. Tucking his sketchbook back into the messenger bag, he turned back toward Stark tower. Except for JARVIS, he’d have the place to himself for the night. The idea of sitting alone in the tower was normally appealing, it was a break from being Captain America, but he grew increasingly restless as he got closer to home. 

“Sir,” JARVIS began before Steve was even fully inside the living quarters on the residential floor. “Ms. Potts wanted me to tell you that she took the liberty of procuring an appropriate suit for you, should you wish to join them at the museum. It is in your room.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” He shed the rain jacket and placed it carefully back into the hall closet; he didn’t want to think of how much the suit cost. 

Pepper wouldn’t be disappointed; she would be understanding and that was almost worse than disappointment. He was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to give up on getting him out and about. Apparently one of the magazines had rated him one of the top ten most eligible bachelors in New York City; the thought of it made his throat dry and his palms sweat.  
He’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t at least look at the suit. 

The messenger bag and his sketchbooks went back to their place on his desk before he dared open his closet. There was still protective plastic over the hanger, so he pulled it out and stripped it away. He’d expected traditional black, but the suit coat and slacks were a lightly patterned, dusky grey. The collared shirt was so pale a blue that it was almost white and the tie slung around the hanger hook was Captain America blue. 

Pepper would at least want him to try it on.

He set it aside to shower and tried to wash away all his questions and doubts about Loki in the hot water, scrubbing at his skin until he felt raw. Shaving and fighting with his hair occupied his attention and kept him from thinking too much about the suit. He was just going to put it on. No doubt, it would be too uncomfortable to keep wearing for any length of time. He’d gotten so used to the Captain America suit that everything else felt wrong somehow.

When he was satisfied that his hair was acceptable, he shed the towel and dressed. The shirt, slacks, and jacket fit him perfectly, but he hadn’t expected anything less from Pepper. Even the black shoes, shining like polished obsidian, felt as comfortable as his boots. He grabbed the tie and headed back to the bathroom for a mirror. 

The image that stared back at him was almost unrecognizable. It sure didn’t look like a scrawny kid from Brooklyn.

“Will you be requiring a car, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS asked politely. JARVIS was always polite.

Steve opened his mouth to say he wasn't going when the invitation on his desk caught his eye. It was open and unfolded. Frowning, Steve moved to pick it up. He was certain that he had never opened it. There was a small, black velvet jewelry box on the desk that hadn’t been there before.

Pepper, he thought. Of course, Pepper had probably opened it as a reminder that he needed to take it with him. He picked up the box and opened it. Inside were two cuff links, each of them a perfect miniature of his shield. He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled them out and fastened them to his cuffs. The invitation slid into an inner breast pocket of the jacket.

“How do I look?” he asked the AI.

“Exceptional, sir.”

He took a deep breath and adjusted the cuff links a second time. “About that ride?”

“A car is waiting downstairs, sir.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” His leather wallet was the last thing to grab. He started for the door before he could convince himself that staying home would be quieter and less stressful. 

His stomach was full of butterflies by the time he climbed into the car and he couldn’t keep from clenching and unclenching his fists. Walking around the city at night where he was unlikely to be noticed was one thing; a full out Stark event with cameras and the press was another. If there was one thing he envied about Tony, it was his ease with being the center of attention, for good or bad. It all seemed to roll off of his shoulders like water off a duck’s back.

As he got out of the car, flashbulbs firing around him, he wished he had his shield to hide behind.

He headed straight for the doors, smiling and waving whenever someone yelled his name, but not stopping to answer questions or pose for any pictures. There was solace inside the museum; he was sure Pepper would have some good advice for how to handle the crushing amount of people. The invitation got him through event security; noise and wafting music lead him the rest of the way to the main gallery. By the time he found Pepper and Tony amidst the crowd, his palms were sweaty and he thought he’d tied the tie far too tightly.

Pepper’s face lit up in a smile when she saw him approaching. “Steve! You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” Steve could feel his face heat as it turned red. “You did a good job with the suit.” He didn’t get to thank her for the cuff links before Tony spun around and pressed a glass of champagne into his hand. “I can’t get drunk,” he said automatically.

“The true price of being Captain America,” Tony answered without missing a beat. “I’m not allowed to get drunk tonight either so you’re not alone.” He tipped his head toward Pepper but there was only fond amusement in his smile.

“What do I do?” Steve asked uneasily. He stepped to the side to get out of the way of a waiter in a white jacket carrying an impossibly full tray of champagne glasses.

“Mingle. Hobnob. Network,” Tony answered.

“How do you mingle?” Steve genuinely had no idea what he was supposed to do. It was unlikely that he’d have anything to talk about with any of the other people there and, even before he’d gone under the ice, he’d hardly been the life of the party.

Pepper took pity on him and linked her arm through his. “Assume everyone is the press until you know otherwise. Be polite; answer questions if you feel like answering them, but don’t feel like you have to answer anything you don’t want to. You’re probably going to be surrounded by women soon enough. Be careful. Most of them only want their names in the paper and a picture of them on Captain America’s arm.”

“They’re like harpies, only worse,” Tony commented, his smile directed toward someone passing by. “Senator! Good to see you. I have a proposal you might be interested in and, lucky you, I’ve got time to tell you about it.” Then he was gone, heading into the crowd with the Senator.

Pepper smiled and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Don’t give any of them your phone number, but if you meet someone you like, just point them out and I’ll take care of it.” 

“Did you used to give Tony the same advice?” he asked.

“Not that Tony ever listened.”

“Thank you.” He meant it and managed a brave smile for her sake. “And thank you for the cuff links, they’re beautiful.”

Pepper frowned, her brow furrowing as she took a closer look, running one finger over a tiny shield. “I didn’t buy those, but they are lovely. I bet it was Tony.” She smiled again. “He knows what it’s like to be a symbol. He says sometimes these things would be easier to handle in his suit. And not just because he could shoot people. He probably thought it would make you feel more comfortable to have a little bit of Captain America with you.”

“That’s pretty insightful. For Tony.”

“He might surprise you.” She gave his arm another squeeze. “Now, go knock ‘em dead, Captain.”

For the next hour, he did his best to mingle. Every so often, he caught Pepper searching him out in the crowd and smiling encouragingly. She’d been right about being surrounded by women, all of whom seemed far too interested in getting very close to him. His cheeks burned and he was almost dizzy with the constant effort of politely extracting himself from their hands. The reporters were even worse. He tried to answer their questions as honestly as possible, but he couldn’t imagine why anyone needed to know what kind of underwear he wore or who he was dating. When he finally managed to get a break, someone far more interesting than him had arrived and their attention was diverted, he grabbed two more glasses of champagne and retreated as far as he could into the stand of potted trees that marked the entrance to the inner courtyard.

He thought he saw a familiar face out of the corner of his eye and turned, craning his neck to get a better look. The man had turned away and Steve only saw long black hair. The man’s suit coat fell nearly to his knees, much longer than the current style. A dark green scarf was around his neck and he held a black walking cane tipped with silver in his left hand. There was something familiar about the man; he seemed to move through the crowd with surprising ease, as though people unconsciously stepped aside to let him through. 

Steve followed, telling himself it wasn’t because he simply couldn’t stand another minute of being surrounded by people who smiled too much about things that meant nothing. He took the curving stairs that led up to the second floor galleries, searching for the man. A glimpse of black hair turning into one of the modern art rooms sent him to the right and the noise of the party faded to a dull buzz in the background. 

When he entered the room, he saw a few other party goers slowly drifting, their focus on the paintings on the walls. The man with the black hair had stopped before a particularly chaotic canvas covered with red and yellow paint.

Feeling more than a little foolish, Steve moved forward, feigning interest in the paintings. Modern art was one more thing he didn’t understand, although he’d read about the idea of conveying emotion through color and shape, free from the need for realism. He all but whistled, cringing at how terribly bad he was at pretending to be casual, and eventually came to stop in front of the same fiery painting. It was an interesting piece; it had the same quality that an open flame did and was almost as mesmerizing with its shifting colors.

“Drink? I ended up with a spare,” Steve said, holding out the second glass of champagne and wincing again at the awkwardness in his voice. He didn’t turn to look at the man; that would only make the fact that he’d followed a complete stranger halfway across a museum even more uncomfortable.

Long, slender fingers took the glass from his hand. “Did you follow me to bring me champagne, Captain? Or do you intend to ask me to leave? I do have an invitation.”

Steve felt his heart skip a beat and managed not to drop his glass. He finally looked and his eyes confirmed what he already knew. Loki stood beside him, his profile as sharp edged as the rest of him. He took a sip of champagne before turning to meet Steve’s gaze. Green eyes were bright; his expression was both wary and aloof.

“That depends,” Steve said, surprised that his voice didn’t shake. “Are you planning on destroying the museum?”

“Not at the moment,” Loki answered smoothly.

“Why are you here, Loki?”

“I enjoy art.” Loki gestured to the painting before he stepped back and took a seat on the bench behind them. 

“I mean Earth.” Steve folded his arms, which was harder than he expected with the glass of champagne in his hand. He had no idea how Tony managed to have a glass in one hand nearly all the time and not break or spill anything. 

There was a flicker of something in Loki’s eyes that might have been pain. His smile was the same razor sharp smile that he’d worn earlier that day. He didn’t answer, simply took another sip of champagne and continued to stare up at the painting on the wall. A couple entered the room and began the slow circle around the outer walls, glancing toward them curiously. Steve took a seat beside Loki, turning his face toward the painting.

“Does Thor know you’re here?” he asked quietly.

“I care nothing for what Thor does or does not know,” Loki sneered.

“It’s just that, well, you’re here and he hasn’t stopped by.” Steve stumbled over the words, unsure of what he was trying to say. “It’s strange is all. Thought maybe there was trouble at home that was keeping him there.”

Loki laughed quietly. “And your Avengers would rise in defense of Asgard. How amusing.”

“We would. Thor helped us out.” He didn’t finish that sentence.

“There is no threat against Asgard that mortals could be of any use in fighting,” Loki said scornfully. “You wonder why Thor has not come to take me back to Asgard in chains? Perhaps he merely does not care enough to do so.” His words burned with bitter anger and it occurred to Steve that Loki didn’t know why Thor hadn’t come after him either.

“So you came to one of Tony’s parties because you like art.” Steve swallowed down half of the champagne and wished, not for the first or last time, that Erskine had at least warned him about that side effect.

“What other reason would there be?”

“Not planning on stealing any eyeballs?”

Loki’s eyes flashed, but whether it was with anger or amusement, Steve couldn’t be sure. “Not this evening, no.”

Steve accepted that. He hadn’t expected to get a straight answer from Loki; it wasn’t like he was going to tell Steve what he was plotting to unleash on New York the next time. Nodding toward the painting in front of them, he tried again. “You must like this one. What do you like about it?”

Loki was silent for several minutes, sipping at his champagne. Finally, he spoke and his voice was distant. “It reminds me of Muspelheim.”

Steve recognized the name as one of the Nine Realms but it was little more than a name for a place he could scarcely believe was real. “Is it nice there?”

“It is a barren wasteland ruled by the demon Surtr. You would call it Hell.”

“Oh.” Steve didn’t know how to respond to that or why Loki had stopped at a painting that reminded him of such a place. He stared up at the painting; it was easy to see how it could remind someone of fire and demons. 

“Do you like it?” Loki asked. He sounded bored, as though merely passing time until the hands of the clock reached an unknown deadline.

“It kind of reminds me of the Iron Man suit,” he said instead of telling Loki that it reminded him of Red Skull and Peggy’s lipstick and everything he’d lost. “Abstract art isn’t really my favorite, but it’s been awhile since I’ve spent time at a museum, just to look, you know, not trying to keep Doom from stealing a painting or anything like that.” He finished his champagne in a single swallow and stared down at the empty glass in his hand. Loki reached out, his movements quick and efficient and Steve’s glass was once again full. He stared at it for a moment; it looked like champagne. “Thanks. I think.”

“I understand that you cannot enjoy alcohol. Why bother?”

“Trying to fit in, I guess,” Steve answered lamely. His memory of the night after Bucky’s death flashed through his mind; the one night of his life that he’d wanted to get drunk more than anything. “Would you tell me if you were trying to take over the world?”  


Loki arched an eyebrow. “At the moment, I am not.”

“At the moment, you’re sitting on a bench drinking champagne with me. What about tomorrow?”

Loki blinked; his face a mask of cold disinterest. His gaze was searching, as though he was looking for something in Steve’s face and measuring his response. The weight of his gaze grew and Steve began to wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake in following Loki away from the party. Unconsciously, his fingers moved to one of the shield cuff links and he rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface, seeking comfort in the familiarity of it.

“You could have left me.” Loki looked away, once more focused on the painting. “That day on the beach.”

“You would have drowned,” Steve said quickly.

“And you would not be asking me if I intend to destroy your realm now. You had the advantage and you did not take it. It was foolish.”

“Probably.” Steve shrugged. He had doubted and second guessed a lot of his choices that day, but pulling Loki from the ocean wasn’t one of them. “Tony’s the one with the brains. At least, that’s what he keeps telling me. I’m just a soldier.”

Loki tensed, his head snapping around to look behind him with sudden interest. Steve turned to follow his gaze and saw Pepper turn the corner, a worried frown on her face. In the amount of time it took for him to process the idea that he needed to find a way to keep Pepper from discovering Loki, he realized that Loki had vanished. The empty champagne glass sitting on the bench was the only indication that anyone had ever been there.

He smiled, hoping she couldn’t tell that his nerves were rattled from his conversation with Loki, and picked up the empty glass so she could sit down beside him. “Did Tony send you to find me?”

“It was sweet of you to come. I know this really isn’t your favorite part of the job.”

“It’s been nice. Really. I haven’t had a lot of time to just sit and look at art since, you know.” He motioned to the red painting.

Pepper didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t I have a car pick you up?”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” he started, but didn’t really know where to go from there.

“Come on.” She hooked her hand around his arm as they stood. “Did you meet anyone interesting? I’m not match-making, I promise, just hoping it wasn’t a total loss for you.”

“It wasn’t. I’m glad that I came.” He didn’t tell her about Loki. He knew how many hours she put in to make sure these events went off without a hitch and, since Loki hadn’t seemed intent on causing mischief, he didn’t want to ruin her entire evening. 

**

The sweltering heat of summer returned and Steve was relieved to get a call from SHIELD that meant leaving the city and heading for cooler temperatures. 

As it turned out, Clint had spent time backpacking and climbing through the Canadian Rockies and, while he was happy to pore over maps and suggest routes through the canyons, he offered no explanation as to what he’d been doing there. That it was before he joined SHIELD was the only explanation Clint gave and Natasha shook her head slightly, letting Steve know not to push.

In the end, Steve figured it didn’t matter all that much. They’d all come to the team from somewhere and what mattered was that they were there now.

The ground was still hard and mostly frozen where the quinjet set down. Snow capped the mountains around them and the wind was cold against the back of his neck, the air heavily laden with the scent of pine trees. There was a lake to the east and that was their eventual goal, but Fury was nothing if not thorough and he wanted them to look closer at the surrounding area as well.

“What are we looking for?” Bruce asked, rubbing his gloved hands together.

“Old military bunker,” Tony answered. He held up a device barely larger than his palm and began scanning the area around them. “Used to be home base for the Weapon X program. Of which, naturally, both the United States and Canadian governments deny all knowledge.”

“Are we expecting anyone to be there?” Steve asked. He didn’t bother asking Tony to explain the gadget he was using; that always ended in a conversation where Steve couldn’t understand a word Tony was saying. Whatever the thing was for, Tony would tell them if it worked. It wasn’t hard to see why someone had chosen the remote mountain valley for their work; the stillness in the air was broken only by occasional bird cry and the sound of snow crunching under their boots.

“Should be empty.” Tony clicked the device closed, motioning to the east. “That way is the SHIELD marker. Their satellites picked up some unusual heat signatures around the bunker the last three days. Fury wants us to check it out.” His part was done and he immediately looked bored, taking off his sunglasses to squint up at the mountains wistfully. “I bet the powder is fantastic.”

“We’re not here to ski, Tony.” Steve adjusted his shield on his back and pulled the winter coat tighter around his neck.

Bruce fell into step beside Tony. “Could be animals, I guess. A place like that is bound to become a habitat for wildlife. Nature tends to take over. This area has wolves, bears, maybe caribou.”

“Wolverines,” Clint commented. His bow and quiver were strapped to his back, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

Tony shivered. “Did we really have to do this on foot though? I could’ve flown over and scanned the whole valley in less than a minute. Case closed.”

Steve felt the silence thicken as they headed into the forest. Even Tony’s voice was muffled by the snow and trees around them. They’d been briefed on Weapon X and the thought of what man had done while Steve lay in the ice made Erskine and the Red Skull seem almost commonplace. At the time, he hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been to not end up as a lab rat in one of these facilities out in the middle of nowhere. He was pretty sure he didn’t know the half of it either, judging from the way Clint was watching the tops of the trees and Natasha had one hand on the gun at her waist.

They were nervous, he realized. Tony and Bruce didn’t seem to have noticed, they were moving ahead, going after the marker signal that SHIELD had left to guide them to the survey point. He slowed enough to allow Clint and Natasha to catch up with him.

“You guys gonna let me in on what’s really going on here?” he asked, keeping his voice low enough that his words wouldn’t carry through the still, cold air.

“Just recon, Cap,” Clint answered.

The corner of Natasha’s mouth quirked in an almost smile. “Following a ghost, that’s all.”

“Nat,” Clint said, an unspoken question in his voice.

Steve looked at both of them warily. “Am I not allowed to know?”

Natasha reached out and placed her hand gently on his arm. “It’s probably nothing. Fury thought there might be a link to HYDRA out here, but the intel was pretty shaky.”

“Since when does Fury send the Avengers on shaky intel?” Steve asked.

Clint snorted. “You’d be surprised.”

“Easy, Cap.” Natasha stopped and turned Steve to face her. “Since you went under, every few years there are rumors that the Red Skull is back or that HYDRA is resurrecting him or cloning him or something. None of it has ever panned out.”

Steve felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Why the secrecy? Why not just tell me that’s what we’re looking for? I can tell you right now, we’re wasting our time if we’re looking for Red Skull. I watched the Tesseract turn him into a beam of energy that blasted straight through a portal to who knows where.”

“Fury wasn’t sure you wouldn’t freak out,” Clint said bluntly. His focus was still on the branches above him, eyes narrowed as he watched them sway with the wind.

“Freak out,” Steve repeated. He didn’t know if he should be upset or insulted.

Natasha glared Clint into silence. “Fury figured it was nothing and didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Steve started forward again. He didn’t really understand why Fury couldn’t have told him back in New York that’s what they were after, but he recognized that Fury operated in a completely different world. Like Tony said, Fury usually had third and fourth unspoken reasons for anything he sent the Avengers to do. Steve wasn’t a spy and he couldn’t even begin to think like one. In the end, it came down to trust. Clint and Natasha were part of the team and he trusted them.

They caught up to Tony and Bruce in silence. Tony found the marker just below the crest of the ridge and unburied it from snow and dirt.

Steve concentrated on his memory of the map of the valley below them. “Okay. Tony, Bruce, you set up communications here and let SHIELD know we’re in place. Clint and Natasha will take the south and I’ll go north. I want to be sure no one’s home before we knock on the front door. Stay in radio contact at all times.”

He started up the ridge, staying carefully on the far side where he wasn’t exposed to anyone who might be in the valley below. As he climbed, he turned Natasha’s words over in his mind again and again. Could it be possible for HYDRA to bring the Red Skull back? Or create another Red Skull? He’d always assumed that even if the monster had survived the Tesseract, he was at least too far away to be a threat. The Chitauri invasion had pretty much destroyed that idea; not even across the universe was too far away to be a threat.

Loki might know.

The thought stopped him in his tracks and he had to shake his head to force it out. Even if it was possible that the Red Skull had survived, not even SHIELD had been able to track Loki for more than a few seconds. Tony had been working on it, but said he’d need a lot more Asgardians running around if he was going to figure out how to pinpoint their energy signatures. Their best hope for that was Thor and he was still in Asgard.

He stopped to glance back down the slope. Tony and Bruce were lost in the trees and he never expected to see Clint or Natasha if they didn’t mean to be seen. Using craggy outcroppings of rock for cover, he crept out to the edge of the ridge and crawled the rest of the way on his stomach. The lake glittered below him. He pulled the binoculars out of the pocket of the heavy winter pants and held them up. The bunker was barely recognizable, most of it hidden underground and the entrance all but masked by trees and boulders. Other than a few birds, he saw nothing alive as he scanned over the valley. If he could get further up the ridge, he might get a better view at the bunker entrance.

Crawling back away from the edge, he stowed the binoculars and started climbing again. The silence was unnerving after getting used to the sounds of the city. It reminded him of the forest around the HYDRA base where he’d rescued Bucky and the others. Motion at the limit of his sight made him hesitate as he pulled himself over the top of a boulder. Breathing shallowly, he slowly turned his head, expecting a moose or a caribou, or if he was very unlucky, a bear. 

Loki walked past him to the edge of the boulder and peered down into the valley, blatantly disregarding the possibility that he might be seen. The helmet was missing and he was dressed in a relatively simple set of leather and armor.

“The man you seek is no longer here,” he said casually. 

Steve hoisted himself the rest of the way onto the top of the boulder and sat down, staring up at Loki with disbelief. “What are you doing?”

Loki gave him an irritated look. “I prefer the cold to the sweltering heat of New York,” he answered simply. “I wanted to get away from the city for a time.”

Steve stared. “You’re on vacation?”

“That is what you mortals call it.”

He shook his head and almost called the others to tell them to start back to the quinjet. “So you’re what Fury sent us after.” 

“Of course not, I just told you,” Loki snapped. “Fury sent you here after the Winter Soldier but he is now gone.”

The pit of Steve’s stomach turned cold. “How do you know that?” More importantly, he wanted to know why Loki knew something that Steve didn’t.

Loki smirked. “As though I would tell you my secrets, Captain Rogers.”

“Are you going to keep popping up like this?” With a sigh, he turned to get into position to drop back down over the boulder’s edge. “I have a cell phone now and Tony showed me how to use it. You could just call me.” He saw a flash of surprise in Loki’s eyes before the familiar mask of disinterest returned.

“Why would I wish to do that?”

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. “Why take time out of your vacation to tell me the guy I’m after isn’t here? You could’ve just let us wander around the forest for days.” 

“As amusing as that would have been, no doubt it would have inconvenienced me more than simply telling you that you are too late.” Loki turned and started away. He stepped off the edge of the boulder, landing as gracefully as a mountain lion on the ground below.

Steve scrambled down the boulder after him. “Loki, wait.”

At the edge of the forest, Loki stopped and turned around. Green eyes were narrowed warily and his arms were folded across his chest. “Yes?”

“Do you know who the Red Skull was?” Steve asked quietly. 

Loki nodded slowly. “I am aware of your past enemy, yes.”

“I watched him get sucked up by the Tesseract. Sucked through a portal. Like the one that you brought the Chitauri through.”

Loki’s eyes gleamed with sudden understanding. “You wonder if he is still alive.” He considered that thoughtfully for a moment. “It is possible, though I doubt that this Red Skull had the skill that is needed to use the Tesseract’s energy or that he would’ve been able to navigate the shadow Ways had he simply been thrust into space.”

“Shadow Ways?”

“There are ways between the Realms other than the Bifrost and the Tesseract.” Loki motioned to the mountain peak above them. “It is much like water. You mortals create canals and force the water to go where you wish. You build pipelines, I believe they are called. The Bifrost is such a pipeline.”

“I’m following.”

“But there are many other paths the water may take. The water filling that lake takes a thousand pathways to get from the top of the mountain to the valley, many of which are hidden deep underground where you cannot see or control them.”

Steve considered that for a moment. “I wish Tony explained things that easily.”

Loki looked startled and almost pleased. “It is not so difficult to understand.”

“And you know how to find and use these hidden pathways.” Steve realized suddenly that this must be how Loki seemed to disappear and reappear at will. “Is that how you disappear? I always thought you must teleport or something.”

“The two are not exclusive concepts.” Loki turned and started back into the forest. “I do not know if your Red Skull survived, Captain.”

“So you didn’t see him. When you were with the Chitauri.” He caught the sudden tension in Loki’s shoulders and wondered. Loki didn’t seem to harbor any fondness or loyalty for the Chitauri.

“I did not.”

Steve expected him to vanish, as he always had before. Instead, Loki’s form blurred and twisted until a sleek black wolf looked back at him, unnatural green eyes still bright. Swallowing, Steve took a step away. The wolf’s muzzle pulled back into what was either a snarl or a smile and then he was gone, moving as silent as a shadow through the trees. Steve stood on the ridge for a long time, thinking. Finally, he pressed a finger to the communicator in his ear.

“Pack up guys, we’re done here,” he said.

“Cap?” Tony’s voice came back. “We just got set up.”

“We’re done.” He started back down the ridge. “Natasha, let Fury know that we’re all going to sit down for a nice, long conversation when we get back to New York.”

Silence.

“Sure thing, Cap,” Natasha answered finally.

Steve didn’t talk as they hiked back to the quinjet. He ignored Tony’s complaints about getting jet lag for nothing. Clint’s expression was one of amusement while Natasha didn’t quite meet his eyes. As they flew, he tried to plan out his words. He’d never told them about Loki’s appearance at the museum gala. In the light of day, it hadn’t seemed as important and nothing had gone wrong. What would SHIELD have put down in their report? That he sat on a bench and drank champagne with the God of Mischief and Lies? It was hardly vital intelligence.

Why had Loki offered him information this time?

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For that matter, why had he taken Loki’s word that this Winter Soldier had already left? It was equally likely that Loki had been lying to throw them off and distract them from their target. But their mission had depended on remaining undetected and being confronted by Loki was hardly undetected. He thought of the way Loki had so casually walked to the edge of the ridge; anyone in the valley below could have seen his outline cut out against the sky. Had Loki simply not cared if he was seen? Or he had been telling the truth and the bunker was deserted.

By the time they reached New York, Steve wasn’t sure of anything. He trusted his team and they trusted him. Guilt wriggled in the back of his throat, making it hard to swallow. He couldn’t ask for their trust if he wasn’t honest with them.

His palms were slick with sweat when they landed on the deck of the Helicarrier, his heart pounding as they made their way inside to shed their cold weather gear. Most of his memories of sitting around that table weren’t good ones. This time, Tony was casting sideways glances his way and even Bruce was unusually quiet.

Fury met them at the table, waiting for them to take their seats before speaking. “Anyone want to tell me what happened out there?”

All eyes turned to Steve. He resisted the urge to clear his throat and took a deep breath. “The mission was compromised, sir. We,” he stopped and glanced at the others. “I was discovered as I was moving to get a better view of the valley.”

“Discovered by whom?” Fury asked.

“Loki, sir.” Stunned silence fell over the table. Steve kept his gaze on Fury and kept his breathing steady. Before he spoke again, he turned just far enough in his chair to see Clint and Natasha in his peripheral vision. “Loki told me that the Winter Soldier had already left the area.” 

He saw Natasha’s eyes widen just slightly before she looked away and Clint’s smile turned defiant. He’d replayed the conversation in the forest a hundred times on the flight back and their reactions confirmed his guess. Clint had wanted to tell him who they were really after and Natasha had been unable to tell him, either because she was following orders or because she’d wanted to protect him from something. 

“Who is the Winter Soldier?” Tony asked, his eyes moving back and forth between Steve and Fury like he was watching a tennis match. “And why would Loki tell you that? How did Loki know that? We didn’t even know that. Did we know that?” He rounded on Clint and Natasha with suspicion.

“I’d like to know who Winter Soldier is as well, Director,” Steve said. He kept his voice carefully respectful. There had to be a reason why Fury hadn’t wanted him to know who they were really after.

“He’s an assassin. Created and controlled by an organization known only as Department X. We believe it was funded in part by HYDRA, originally. Black Widow has experience with Department X.” Fury leaned forward and rested his forearms against the back of one of the chairs, meeting Steve’s gaze squarely. “I’m sorry, Captain. I thought it best that you didn’t know. Before the Winter Soldier became what he is now, he was Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th.”

Steve swallowed hard. It felt as though something was stuck in his throat. “Bucky?” 

“He’s no longer the man you knew.” Fury seemed tired and older for a moment; he straightened and turned to motion Agent Hill forward. “And it seems to me, we now have a bigger problem. That information was need to know only and I was one deciding who needed to know. Loki definitely was not on my list.”

The rest of the conversation blurred together into a buzzing in Steve’s ears. Was it really possible? How? Bucky would have to be over ninety years old by now. He looked around the room without seeing; he didn’t really know what was possible anymore. Tony Stark had a suit of flying armor, Bruce was the Hulk, and he was sitting inside an aircraft carrier that was well beyond the water. He was surrounded by the impossible every day. 

He had been naïve to think that Bucky would be lucky enough to escape a fate worse than death.

“Loki can shapeshift,” he said suddenly, surprising himself and everyone else around him. Part of him desperately wanted to change the subject to anything else, another part of him realized that his interactions with Loki were no less impossible or disturbing than Bucky being alive. “I watched him turn into a wolf.”

Tony twisted in his seat, turning to face Steve. “That’s disturbing. Awesome, but disturbing. Anything else you want to share with the team?”

Steve rubbed at his forehead; it felt as though his whole world was spinning out of control. “He said he was on vacation to get away from the heat and he explained how he travels from place to place. It’s different from the Bifrost and the Tesseract. He called them shadow Ways.”

Tony was frowning now. “This sounds like you had an actual conversation with the very bad escaped criminal.” 

“And there’s a painting at the museum that reminds him of Muspelheim. There. That’s all I know,” Steve finished with irritation. He wished he could make sense of it and he wished Loki had picked someone else to single out and play mind games with.

“What museum?”

“The one where you had that charity event a few months back. Pepper got me a suit and you left those cuff links for me.” Tony was staring at him like he’d lost his mind and he felt his cheeks burn. “The cuff links. Little Captain America shields. I never really got a chance to say thank you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Steve frowned, puzzled. “Pepper said she didn’t get them for me. We assumed you had.”

“What do cuff links have to do with Loki?” Bruce interrupted.

“I saw Loki at the museum that night. I followed him. We talked about art. There was this painting he liked. He said it reminded him of Muspelheim.” He could feel the silence grow heavy around him; they were looking at him as though he’d grown a third eye.

“Captain, why don’t you let Stark have a look at those cuff links when you get back?” The way Fury said it wasn’t a question.

“Wait, you don’t think.” Steve almost laughed. “You think Loki gave me the cuff links? That’s ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than him tipping us off about Winter Soldier,” Tony pointed out. “And none of us gave them to you.”

“But why?”

Tony stood up, impatient to go. “Loki’s playing a game and you drew the lucky number this round, Cap. We’ve got to figure out what his angle is before you go Barton on us. I’ve kick started this bucket of bolts once and that’s more than enough.”

“Hey!” Clint protested. “I was mind controlled, not fraternizing with the enemy and talking about art. Big difference.”

Steve cringed at Clint’s words and felt his stomach sink. He’d assumed the meeting at the museum gala was coincidence. That Loki had been there merely to watch either him or Tony; it would’ve been no different than the surveillance SHIELD kept most of their enemies under. They’d watch Loki’s every move if they could figure out how.

This wasn’t how he’d wanted the conversation to go.

**

The cufflinks, it turned out, weren’t just perfect miniatures of the Captain America shield. They were perfect replicas of his shield, fashioned out of the same vibranium alloy as the original.

Tony locked them in the lab inside a case that was impervious to all forms of electromagnetic energy and then spent a week arguing with JARVIS about unwanted guests.

**

Fall passed and the weather turned bitterly cold again before the team stopped looking at Steve as though he were a liability.  
Rationally, he understood their concern and he knew that they were worried more than anything. They were worried that Loki had singled him out for a reason, that there was something going on in the shadows that they couldn’t anticipate or prepare for. 

There was still no word from Thor.

Clint and Natasha left for Europe in the middle of the night. The hesitation in Natasha’s voice told him everything he needed to know. They were going after Winter Soldier again and he wasn’t going with them. He understood that too; it was the right call, even if he hated knowing that Bucky was out there somewhere. Unable to sleep, he sat in his chair and stared out at the city around him. It was snowing, but he could only just make out the flakes as they drifted past the window. The wind had died down and there was only silence left behind.

He half wished that one of their enemies would attack so he’d have a reason to punch something.

On his desk, his cell phone dinged and the screen lit up for a moment as a message was received. He got up to check it. The message wasn’t one of the numbers that Tony had programmed into his phone.

_34th and 7th. One hour._

The hair on the back of his neck rose, but he brushed it away and hurriedly changed from his sweat pants and t-shirt into jeans and a sweater. He threw his phone and wallet into the messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder. Moving silently down the hallway, he pulled his coat out of the closet and wrapped a thick scarf around his neck. The scarf, he knew for certain, was from Pepper.

He got there early. 

Even with the late hour, there was still traffic and more than a handful of people walking the streets. He felt foolish standing on the corner with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, waiting for someone who could be a HYDRA agent or even Doctor Doom for all he knew. It seemed like only a minute had gone by every time he checked his phone. At exactly one hour from when he’d received the message, he saw a familiar figure walking unhurriedly toward him.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” he said.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “What is Director Fury going to do, ground you?” He was wearing a black wool coat; a scarf of green and gold was wrapped around his neck, the ends draped over one shoulder. The walking stick in his hand was black and tipped with silver, the same as the night in the museum.

“What do you want, Loki?” he asked, determined.

“I wish you to explain something to me.” Loki started down 34th street, obviously expecting Steve to follow.

He fell into step beside Loki uneasily. People seemed to move around them unconsciously, as though Loki was somehow keeping everyone at a safe distance. They reached the bright lights of the Macy’s holiday windows and Loki stopped, turning to the window that depicted scenes from the movie _Miracle on 34th Street_.

Loki motioned to the window. “Explain this.”

“It’s the Macy’s holiday display. They do it every year. Even when this was my New York. The movie didn’t come out until after I was,” he hesitated, the words sticking in his throat.

“Explain Christmas,” Loki said impatiently.

“Explain Christmas?” Steve stared dumbly at him and then reminded himself that where Loki came from, the only supreme power was Odin. “Why do you want to know about Christmas?”

Loki continued to stare at the window and the intricate figurines within. “Mortals believe they are somehow different this time of year and they attribute it to this Christmas. It appears to be a celebration of some kind.”

Steve started slowly, his words gradually becoming steadier as he talked. They walked slowly along the street and he pointed out pieces of the display that illustrated various stories. He started with the Bible and the birth of Christ; he told the story of the Three Wise Men and the star that had appeared in the sky above Bethlehem. Then he continued, explaining Santa Claus and the flying reindeer and Christmas trees.

“I’m guessing you don’t have anything like Christmas on Asgard,” Steve said quietly. 

“It is highly irrational,” Loki answered, his voice distant and his attention still on the brightly colored display.

“Sometimes the world isn’t rational,” Steve laughed. “It’s almost two in the morning and I’m standing outside Macy’s explaining Christmas to someone from another planet.”

Surprisingly, Loki smiled. It wasn’t sharp edged and bitter as his smiles usually were, but wide and genuine. He nodded, the smile fading quickly but not completely gone. “Thank you for explaining it to me, Steven Rogers.”

It was both strange and welcome to hear Loki say his name instead of calling him Captain. Steve turned to face him, taking a chance based on nothing but a hunch. “I still haven’t seen Miracle on 34th Street. They usually have showings of it during the holidays. If you wanted to see it. This weekend maybe.”

Bright green eyes focused on him intently. “What assurances would you give me that it would not be a trap?”

“What assurances do I have that you won’t unleash fire breathing monsters inside the theater?” Steve countered.

Loki’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Very well. In exchange for your word that you will not inform SHIELD of our plans, I will give you my word that I will not unleash monsters inside the theater.”

“Or outside the theater. Or make the characters in the movie come to life. Or trap anyone inside the movie. Or turn anything into ice cream.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked as though he wanted to smile but wouldn’t allow it. “You read far too many comic books, Steven Rogers.”

“It’s just Steve.” He grinned as he held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Loki looked down at his hand for a moment before extending his own, clasping Steve’s with a firm grip. “We have a deal.”

**

Steve found an old-fashioned theater, fully restored, that was showing the movie on Saturday afternoons through Christmas. He walked down to check it out Friday afternoon and smiled as stepped inside. It even smelled the way he remembered a movie theater smelling; the air was thick with buttered popcorn and there was a cotton candy machine in one corner. He bought two tickets for one of the Saturday matinee showings, texted the time and address to the phone number that he assumed was Loki’s, and tucked them into his wallet. 

Despite the cold, he couldn’t help but smile as he walked back to Stark tower. He attributed it to the Christmas season, when everyone seemed to be happier and kinder.

He was whistling a carol as he let himself into the residential floor of the tower.

“That you, Cap?” Tony yelled from the kitchen.

“Be there in a second,” Steve yelled back. He shucked off his wool coat and scarf, putting them away neatly in the closet. Pulling off his boots, he left them to drip snow and ice in the plastic tray by the door and padded into the kitchen in his socks.

Tony and Bruce were seated at the table, their heads bent over one of Tony’s tablet computers. Tony looked up. “You’re in a good mood.”

“It’s Christmas,” Steve said with a smile. He headed for the coffee pot that always seemed to be full. 

“You didn’t happen to go into the lab and take those cuff links out of their box, did you?” Tony asked, his attention returning to the tablet.

“No,” Steve answered honestly.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Tony sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair as he sat back in the chair. “I have no idea how Loki is getting into the tower. It’s like JARVIS can’t see him at all. Even if he’s popping in from another dimension, or however he does it, he should still show up on the cameras. And if he’s walking around my tower, who knows where else he’s going.”

“Could be that’s how he knew about Winter Soldier,” Bruce said softly. 

It was the first time anyone had mentioned Bucky aloud since that day on the Helicarrier. Steve took his coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with them. He wondered what it would take to get Loki to either stay out of Stark Tower or come in the front door like everyone else; probably more than an old Christmas movie.

“Think there will be any more surprise visits from our scary neighborhood demi-God?” Tony asked.

Steve swallowed more coffee and shook his head. He’d made a deal and he was going to stick to it. “If he took the cuff links, then he got what he came for. Right? He must’ve realized that we were on to him.”

Tony looked around, squinting suspiciously at the kitchen appliances. “I just can’t help but wonder if he left anything else behind.”

“If he did, we’ll probably never know,” Bruce said.

Tony pulled a face. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.”

“We never did figure out what the cuff links were for.”

“Or where he got the vibranium.” Tony rubbed at his face tiredly before getting up and going for the coffee himself. “Which I, personally, would absolutely love to know.”

“Maybe they have it on Asgard,” Steve offered, trying to be helpful.

“Next time you see him, Cap, don’t suppose you could do me a favor and plant a bug on him? I could whip up something small. He probably wouldn’t notice with all that armor.”

Steve hid behind his coffee, looking anywhere but at Tony. “Why do you think I’ll see him again?”

Bruce tapped at the tablet and the display changed to a series of bar charts. “My theory--”

“Our theory,” Tony chimed in.

“Our theory is that he’s made contact with you because you saved his life in California.”

“I’m sure it was the mouth to mouth.” Tony winked at Steve over his coffee mug. 

Steve felt his cheeks turn red. “How do we know he would have died? Can Asgardians even drown? The guy fell to Earth in a ball of fire and was ripped apart before that. He looked like he’d gone through a blender. If he survived that, I’m not sure drowning would have killed him.”

“Doesn’t matter. He brought you a gift and, more importantly.” Tony leaned in, his gaze on Steve felt like a pair of lasers boring into his skin. “More importantly, he’s talking to you. Actually talking. Telling you things we don’t know. He talked to you about how his power works. Why? There’s a reason I don’t go around telling people how my suit works. And why tell you? Out of the team, you’re the least likely to understand.”

“Which could be why,” Bruce interjected. “Sorry, Steve. I doubt Loki thinks that giving you this information is a risk.”

Steve frowned but he couldn’t really argue. There were times, rare but not impossible, that he understood what Tony meant, but most of the time, it seemed like Tony was living in a completely different world. “I doubt Loki is worried about trade secrets.” 

“True,” Tony ceded. “He’s up to something. I can feel it.” His gaze turned thoughtful, but it was the look that Tony got when his brain was working on a problem well beyond Steve’s comprehension. More often than not, that particular look resulted in fire alarms going off in the lab. “He didn’t show up in New York until six months later. We can assume that’s how long it took him to recover.”

“Considering his injuries, that’s pretty amazing.”

“Energy.” Tony drummed his fingers against his coffee mug. “I’ve been looking for energy that Loki is putting out, but that kind of regeneration, that takes a lot of energy. We need to look for energy sinks, not energy sources. Doctor Banner, if you will join me. And next time we see Loki, we’re going to need the Other Guy to have a nice, friendly chat with him.”

Tony was halfway down the hall and Bruce only a few steps behind him when Steve’s brain finally caught up to what Tony had been saying. He sat uneasy in the chair, sipping at the cooling coffee. It had been months since Loki had even caused any property damage, let alone threatened innocent civilians. Although it didn’t make up for all the people who had died because of Loki and the Chitauri, it didn’t seem that Loki was all that interested in killing people lately. His only demand the last time he’d seen Steve was that he be given an explanation for Christmas. Lack of recent violence aside, he was sure that Loki wouldn’t take getting smashed by the Hulk lightly, especially if he was getting smashed so that Tony could test a theory.

Steve wanted to believe the lack of violence meant something. Maybe he wanted to believe it because, if even the God of Lies could be brought around to the side of peace, then there was hope for an assassin who used to be Bucky Barnes. 

And it was Christmas.

With a heavy sigh, he finished his coffee and retreated to his room. The world he’d come to live in every day was the very opposite of Christmas. His world was about tracking down criminals and those who would hurt others, locking them away and hoping to keep them locked up. Was that all there was to it? He’d told Erskine that he didn’t want to kill anybody. He wanted to help people; he wanted to protect people. That’s what he did for SHIELD and the Avengers, he protected people.

The Red Skull had been easy to stand against; he’d made it easy with his hatred and cruelty. Loki wasn’t making it easy this time and maybe that was just part of his master plan. He’d turned them against each other the last time using bits of truth and their own fears. Maybe someone had told Loki about the strategy of catching flies with honey instead of vinegar.  
The movie tickets felt like fire burning through the leather of his wallet.

He spent the evening in the gym, working out some of his frustration on a set of punching bags. With each punch, he considered questions that he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know and couldn’t begin to understand Loki’s motives. He didn’t know what Bucky had gone through, what had turned him into the Winter Soldier that Fury described. Even though Steve had been out of the ice for more than three years, it still felt as though he was drowning in everything he didn’t know or understand. 

Tony and Bruce were busy in the lab so he ate dinner alone. He checked his phone a dozen times but there was no response from Loki. It frustrated him more than he wanted to admit. Was he supposed to assume that Loki had gotten the message? He stared at his phone glumly.

“JARVIS? Is there any way to tell if someone has read a text message?”

“It depends on the phone and the conditions of the carrier, as well as--”

“Okay, okay.” Steve sighed. He didn’t dare say more or risk giving away too much information and breaking their deal.  
“Is there something that I may assist you with, sir?”

“No. I’m just meeting someone tomorrow is all. Going to see a movie. But I haven’t gotten a response.”

“I’m sure they will be there, sir,” JARVIS said with the utter conviction only a computer brain could have.

Steve wondered if Tony had programmed JARVIS to be encouraging to everyone or just the clueless Captain America. It had probably been Pepper’s idea. He thought of the cuff links and wondered. Their disappearing act all but confirmed that they’d come from Loki, which made absolutely no sense. Not even Steve had known he was going to the charity gala at the museum until that night. He hadn’t even opened the invitation.

“JARVIS, do you know much about Norse mythology?” he asked.

“I have vast libraries of literature documenting every mythology on planet Earth, sir. As well as a wealth of literature investigating the meaning of the mythological texts.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Steve cleared the table and loaded his dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “What do the myths say about Loki?” 

He listened with half an ear, returning to his room and stripping off his gym clothes. While he showered, JARVIS recited portions of a poem where Loki was said to have taunted the gods of Asgard, accused them of being prideful, and revealed their secrets. He spoke of Loki being the father to monsters; even Odin feared the children of Loki and sought to capture them. Steve pulled on a worn t-shirt and loose sweatpants as JARVIS described Loki bound to a rock with a serpent dripping venom onto his face, locked there until the end of the Gods and the end of the Nine Realms.

“Is that sufficient, Captain Rogers?”

Steve settled into his chair and pulled out his sketchbook and pencils. “Well, I guess myths are just myths. I don’t think our Loki has a wife or children, let alone a snake big enough to wrap around the Earth and a wolf that eats stars.”

“It is quite likely that the myths underwent significant alteration without the continued presence of the Asgardians.”

His pencil scratched over the paper but his mind was a world away, pulling the lines and shading from memory without the conscious effort to do so. The myths weren’t going to help shed any light on what Loki was planning, unless having a snake drip venom onto his face was part of his grand plan.

“Do you have access to news footage from the attack on New York? What about SHIELD footage of Loki on the helicarrier or in Stuttgart?” Steve asked almost absently. The most interesting footage would’ve been when Loki was with Barton, but all of that information was locked in Clint’s head and he really didn’t like to talk about it.

The television screen in the wall blinked to life. When he looked up, he saw a wide angle view of the square in Stuttgart. He set his pencil and sketchbook aside and moved closer to the screen. There was no sound, but he didn’t need it; he could remember what Loki had said. He’d barely landed in time to protect the old man who had stood up to Loki. Frowning, he watched the image of himself, small and partially hidden by the dispersing crowd around him, fighting Loki. Iron Man arrived like a comet, blasting Loki back and against the small set of stairs.

“I also have footage taken within Stark Tower,” JARVIS said and the image on the screen changed. This time there was sound.

He watched, and listened, as Tony and Loki traded barbs. Loki paced the room with what looked like restlessness, the same arrogance in his voice that Steve had heard before. He watched Loki try the scepter on Tony and fail; he tried not to imagine how the battle would’ve gone if they hadn’t had Tony on their side. 

_“And there’s one other person you pissed off,” Tony’s voice sounded tinny and scratchy in the recording. “His name was Phil.”_

Watching Hulk throw Loki around and smash him into the floor made Steve wince. And it made him wonder even more what it had taken to injure Loki as badly as he’d been in California. He’d still been able to move after the Hulk got through with him.

Steve turned back to his chair. “I’ve seen enough, JARVIS.” 

He hadn’t known Phil Coulson well. Not like the others had. Not like Clint and Natasha, who had worked with Coulson and SHIELD for years; not even as well as Thor. His heart heavy, he returned to his chair and picked up his sketchpad. Loki stared up at him, a wide smile on his face. It wasn’t the sharp edged, brittle smile that he usually wore or the arrogant, cruel smile that JARVIS’ cameras had captured. He found it hard to reconcile the Loki who demanded he meet him at one in the morning to explain the meaning of Christmas and the Loki who had thrown Tony through a window.

As he flipped through the pages of his sketchbook, he realized that it was nearly half full of pictures of Loki: Loki in his armor, Loki smiling, Loki sitting in profile beside him on the bench in the museum, Loki as a sleek black wolf. 

“The world used to be black and white,” he said softly.

If it were Bucky instead, if the movie tickets in his pocket were to see _Miracle on 34th Street_ with Winter Soldier, he wouldn’t be hesitating. He would be doing everything in his power to get Bucky back, even if it meant letting Winter Soldier go; he’d fight for the Bucky he’d known and he would never give up. 

He put the sketchbook away and climbed into bed, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. JARVIS dimmed the lights to darkness without needing to be asked. The windows turned dark at night, unless he asked JARVIS to revert them, and they blocked out the lights from the city around the tower. He’d always meant to ask Tony how they did that. The minutes ticked by on the alarm clock near his bed. By two in the morning, JARVIS started playing a loop of ocean waves. He didn’t ask how JARVIS knew that he couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying the moment on the train when he’d lost Bucky; only now he was Thor, watching Loki fall away into nothing and powerless to stop it. 

His world was no longer black and white.

**

Steve bought a large container of popcorn and a large cotton candy. He stood, arms full and awkward, in the lobby of the movie theater. He’d gotten there half an hour early, with still no response from Loki, and had almost convinced himself to give up when Loki stepped through the doors.

He wore a simple black leather jacket, another green and gold scarf, with dark blue jeans and the black and silver cane. A hint of a smile ghosted across his lips when he saw Steve.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Steve said, cheeks burning. He wasn’t sure why trying to talk to Loki made him feel about ninety pounds again, but he figured Loki probably had that effect on a lot of people. Not just anyone could shame the entire court of Asgard with nothing more than words. Awkwardly, he held out one of the tickets to Loki and nodded in the direction of the entrance to the theater.

He took the lead and went for the center of the bottom row of seats in the second tier. A family with several young children was trying to get situated in the row behind them, one of the children shouting loudly about being unable to see the screen. Steve smiled as he sat down. The crowd was mostly families, with older couples seated together in the comfortable familiarity of tradition. Still, he figured that he and Loki were probably still some of the oldest people there. As he tried to balance the popcorn and cotton candy, Loki reached out to take the cotton candy from his hand.

“What is this?” Loki asked.

“Try it.”

He plucked a wisp of sugar from the mass and put in his mouth, his brow furrowing. “It melts.”

“It’s pure sugar.” Steve grinned and pulled off a chunk of his own. “Try the popcorn.”

That went over about as well as the cotton candy; Loki took a small handful and chewed thoughtfully for several long moments. “You eat this deliberately?”

“Terrible, I know.” Steve loaded his palm with popcorn and crammed it into his mouth. He’d expected the noise to bother Loki, given his known disregard for mankind in general, but he didn’t seem to notice the chatter of the children and scolding mothers.

When the lights dimmed, he settled back into his seat and waited for the movie to start. He pretended not to notice when Loki reached for more popcorn. For the length of the movie, he felt as though he’d been transported back in time. He was just a kid from Brooklyn again, watching a movie and surrounded by families who’d come out to celebrate Christmas. 

_Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to._

He found himself grinning at the end of the movie, happy that Susan had found her dream house with a backyard and swing and Doris had found her faith in others.

The lights came up and people began to file out of the theater. Steve tried to catch Loki’s expression, unsure about asking him directly what he’d thought of the movie. He noticed that both the cotton candy and popcorn were gone. Once their aisle was clear, he stood up and Loki followed. They walked in silence; he dumped the empty popcorn container into a trash bin on the way out of the lobby. Loki appeared to be lost in thought and began walking without saying a word. 

Steve followed, keeping pace and holding his tongue. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and let his eyes wander over the city as they walked, enjoying the brightly colored lights and decorations in the storefront windows. His breath frosted on the air. The cold didn’t seem to affect Loki. 

When Loki finally spoke, it was to ask a question. “Do mortals frequently lie to their children?”

“You mean about Santa Claus?”

Loki nodded. “There seems little point in perpetuating the myth of such a being.”

“Think of it as a means to an end.” He thought maybe Loki would understand it in those terms. “You teach a child about Santa Claus and at the same time, you’re teaching them about generosity and gratitude. To share with others, to value time with their family. Those are pretty complicated concepts for a kid to understand. But wrap it up in a bow, have a jolly old man deliver it, and they’ll listen. When they get older, they see the stories for what they really are.”

“And you were not angry, you did not feel betrayed, when you learned there was no Santa Claus?”

“Life was already hard by the time I was old enough to understand. My mother tried to keep Christmas, but after my father died, it was hard. We didn’t have much and I figured it out long before she wanted to tell me. She wanted me to believe in magic while I was growing up because she loved me.” He smiled wistfully at a brightly decorated tree inside one of the store windows. 

“And would you tell your own children such lies?”

“Absolutely.” Steve tipped his head toward Loki and smiled. “Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Bilbo Baggins, and the Land of Oz.”

Loki turned to face him, his expression searching and unsure. There was a tightness around his mouth and he seemed genuinely perplexed by the concept.

“Don’t you have children’s stories on Asgard?” Steve asked.

Familiar tension returned and Loki’s eyes went cold. He looked away, walking once again. “Odin told stories of his victories in battle. Of the defeat of the Frost Giants and the triumph of Asgard. They were stories of war and of death.”

Steve started after him, hurrying to catch up. “Frost Giants?” 

Loki’s pace quickened, his cane striking the pavement in sharp staccato. “A race of monsters who call the realm of Jotunheim their home. Long ago, they sought to conquer Midgard and the other realms. They were held back by Asgardian forces and their realm brought low under Odin’s rule. They are hated and feared.” 

“Is that all you have? Stories of war and monsters.” Steve clenched his fists in his pockets to keep from reaching out to catch Loki’s arm. 

Loki stiffened and there was ferocious anger in his eyes when he turned around. “Thor has not told your SHIELD much of Asgard then. Nor of me.”

“He said that you were of Asgard and you were his brother,” Steve answered honestly. That was what had truly mattered to Thor, despite everything Loki had done. Steve hadn’t truly understood that until the moment Director Fury had told him that Bucky was still alive.

Loki blinked. His anger seemed to fade and collapse inward, leaving him tired and brittle; the sharp edged smile returned. “Sentiment,” he said bitterly.

“Loki.” Steve stopped, unable to find any words that would do any good against hundreds of years of bitterness between brothers. Finally, he smiled lamely. “Thank you for coming to the movie with me today. We could do it again sometime, if you want. I’ve got a lot of movies to catch up on.”

Loki seemed to cautiously consider that. “You were true to your word today.”

“Why don’t you pick the next one?” Steve offered. “Whatever you choose, I can pretty much guarantee that I haven’t seen it.”

“That is acceptable.”

Steve found himself reluctant to go, but he knew that Natasha and Clint were due back at the tower late that night. He wanted to be there when they returned. “Let me know when and where. I’ll be there. Unless there are Doombots. Or HYDRA. Or the Kree decide to attack the Earth. Again.” He was rewarded with another genuine smile, though he wasn’t sure if Loki was smiling at the thought of watching a movie or potential violence.

Loki nodded. “It is a deal.” 

Steve blinked and Loki was gone. He glanced around, searching the streets in every direction for the familiar black hair and black cane. “We’ll have to work on the concept of good-bye,” he said under his breath as he started for home. Halfway down the block, he felt something hard in his pocket and frowned. He didn’t remember putting anything into his coat pockets. 

Catching at the objects, he fished them out and opened his hand. Two cuff links, each a perfect miniature of his Captain America shield, sat in his palm.

When he returned, Steve showed the cuff links to Tony, reluctantly but immediately. Tony didn’t see much point in locking them up again so they went back into the black velvet box and into a drawer in Steve’s beside table. He told SHIELD that he’d discovered them in his pocket, which was the truth.

Clint and Natasha returned to the tower looking as though they’d been run ragged across Europe for weeks instead of days.  
Steve made sure there was a full pot of coffee, orange juice, and waffles waiting when they emerged from their respective bedrooms the next morning. Natasha eyed him warily but didn’t argue with the plate of waffles topped with strawberries and whipped cream, or the mug of steaming hot coffee. Clint didn’t even hesitate before he sat down and started shoveling forkfuls of waffle into his mouth.

“What’s the occasion, Cap?” Natasha asked, hands around her mug. 

He wondered if she realized how carefully she always held onto her coffee, as though it might be snatched away at any moment. “No occasion.”

“We can’t tell you anything,” she said.

“Not asking. Just made waffles.”

Clint washed down a mouthful of waffle and maple syrup with orange juice. “We lost him in Austria. He’s only active in intervals and it’s about time for this one to end. If we lose this window, we’ll catch him next time. Could be years though.”

Natasha glared at him. “Not helping.”

“Man’s got a right to know.” The look that Clint gave Natasha was heavily weighted with meaning that Steve didn’t understand.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you? “

Clint grinned wolfishly. “Nope.” 

“I was undercover. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Easy, easy,” Steve interrupted before they could get going. “What do you mean, active in intervals?”

“They keep him on ice when he’s not on assignment. Don’t know where. Fury thinks they’ve got to move around, never the same place for long.” Clint turned back to his plate with singular focus.

Steve felt a shiver run up his spine; he knew what it was like to be frozen. “Who runs Department X?”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression one of resignation. “It was a covert Russian operation originally, but it changed hands in the last decade. We’re still trying to figure out who’s running it now. Intel is almost non-existent. Nothing but ghosts and shadows.”

He nodded, folding his arms as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Fury won’t be happy.”

Clint shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned. “The man made waffles, Nat.”

“And now Cap knows the way to get you to talk is through your stomach.”

“I’m not looking to get anyone in any trouble,” Steve promised. “I understand why Fury wanted to keep this close to the vest. I would’ve made the same call if I’d been in Fury’s shoes. But I want to be there when SHIELD brings Winter Soldier in.”

Natasha smiled over her coffee mug, just slightly. It was as much of a smile as he ever saw on her face. “When we’ve got something solid, Cap, you’ll be the first to know.” 

“Cap thinks he can save his buddy, bring him back from the Dark Side,” Clint teased.

“Of course he does, he’s Captain America.”

“And that’s why we love you, Cap.” Clint raised his glass of orange juice. “That and the waffles.”

Steve laughed and shook his head, trying to choose his next words carefully. “Bucky was my best friend. If there’s a chance, I have to try.” He watched a look pass between the two of them that said more than a thousand words.

“Stranger things have happened,” Clint said finally, not committing to a yes or a no.

Natasha’s nod of agreement was subtle and easy to miss. “There’s always Saint Jude, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

Steve wondered if the patron saint of lost causes had jurisdiction over lost Asgardians as well as lost soldiers. He changed the subject to the upcoming holiday and made another batch of waffles at Clint’s request. By the time the first set was brown, Tony and Bruce had joined them. It was the first time they’d all sat down and eaten breakfast together. Steve took the last of the waffles for himself, loading them with butter and syrup and squeezing in between Clint and Tony at the table. 

“So,” Tony said suddenly. “Avengers holiday plans? I throw the best New Years Eve party, not kidding. How about Los Angeles?”

“I don’t want to miss the ball drop,” Natasha protested.

“It’s televised,” Tony retorted.

“Not the same.”

“What about you, Cap?” The mischief in Tony’s grin could only lead to bad things. “JARVIS tells me you had a movie date yesterday.”

Steve’s face burned red and he nearly choked on a bite of waffle. “I’d never seen Miracle on 34th Street.”

“I, for one, think it’s about damn time.” Tony raised his coffee mug in a mock toast. “To Captain America. One of the most eligible bachelors in New York City.”

“He beat you this year, Tony.” Natasha stood up gracefully, carrying her empty plate to the dishwasher and ignoring Tony’s glare.

“I’m off the market. But if you need any pointers, big guy. Happy to help.”

Steve stifled a laugh. “Thanks, Tony, but I think I’ll be okay without your help.”

“Besides, Stark,” Clint added as he pushed back from the table. “I’m sure Cap is looking for a nice girl he can bring home to JARVIS.”

“You’re implying I wouldn’t be able to help him find a nice girl.”

Clint loaded his dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “They’re not nice girls if they come with price tags.”

“I have never paid for a woman,” Tony fired back. “I didn’t have to.”

“Tony.” Steve pressed his forehead into his palm. “It’s not like that. I just took a friend to a movie. Maybe a friend. Someday.”

“Wait a second.” Tony eyed him speculatively. “Your movie date was a guy, wasn’t it?”

“Really, Tony--”

“It was!” Tony crowed with laughter. “Not that it matters. Love is love and all that equality shit. Barton, you owe me fifty bucks.” Clint scowled as he reached for his back pocket.

Steve only shook his head; the conversation devolved into teasing banter as the others reminded Tony about his playboy past. Tony remained unabashed by all of it, throwing in a few stories of his own that had Natasha rolling her eyes and Clint holding his sides with laughter. It reminded him of the camaraderie of his team and the laughter they’d shared between HYDRA missions. 

“Okay, okay.” Tony held up his hand and waited for the kitchen to fall into relative silence. He turned to Steve and his expression became serious. “All joking aside, say the word, Cap, and we’ll go after your friend Bucky. We’ll bring him home. He might have to do some jail time with SHIELD, but we’ll find him for you.”

Steve knew that Tony would be as good as his word and, with the resources of Stark Industries, even the Winter Soldier would be hard pressed to hide. He considered it, turning it over and weighing his fear that Bucky really was gone forever and his hope that not everything from his past life had been lost. As he thought about it, he looked around the room, at the faces that surrounded him. Natasha looked tense, no doubt because Tony was flying directly against Fury’s wishes, but she wasn’t arguing. Clint wore the same look of calm determination that he wore into battle. Steve knew they would all do everything they could to help him.

Maybe if Tony was focused on Winter Soldier, he wouldn’t be so focused on finding a way to track Loki. 

The thought made Steve’s stomach churn, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted Tony to find Bucky or if he didn’t want Tony to find Loki.

“Thanks,” he said slowly. “What we really need to know is who gives the missions, who calls the shots. It’s not enough to find Bucky if we can’t cut him loose and bring in the people who control him.” No one argued with his logic; he knew they wouldn’t. He was right and even SHIELD could agree with that. It wasn’t enough to keep chopping off heads when more simply grew back.

Tony nodded. “Consider it done.”

Steve swallowed. He looked at each of them, his stomach churning as he remembered sitting in the movie theatre with Loki. It felt like a betrayal. “You guys would do this for me? Even though Fury wants us out of it.”

“Wants you out of it, Cap,” Tony clarified. “And you’ll owe us one.”

Clint raised his hand. “Can I get that IOU in the form of waffles?”

“Clint,” Steve said with a smile. “If I get Bucky back, I’ll make you waffles every Sunday for a year.” 

Steve’s heart was pounding and his head spinning as the others continued to talk. He gathered up the dirty dishes from the table and tidied up the kitchen, letting the conversation wash over him. The others would find Winter Soldier and whoever was running the missions; if anyone could bring Bucky home, they could. Waffles didn’t seem like enough to repay them. He poured more coffee, leaned back against the counter and watched. As he sipped, he thought about Loki’s attack on New York City, about the Helicarrier, about everything they’d lost and everything they’d gained that day. 

Natasha noticed his gaze; she seemed to notice everything. “Cap?”

“Just thinking about something you said that day, during the Chitauri attack.” He wasn’t surprised when the room quieted down. They all seemed to lose their words when the Chitauri were mentioned. “You were right about the portal. It wasn’t about guns.”

“Only because Selvig built in a fail safe.” Natasha shrugged. It wasn’t modesty; the Black Widow didn’t do modest any more than she did pride.

“Want to share with the class?” Tony asked.

Steve shook his head. “Just an idea. If anything comes of it, I’ll let you know.” 

He retreated from the kitchen with his coffee. Although he was reluctant to break away from what was truly beginning to feel like family, he needed to think. He settled into his chair, balancing his coffee mug and pulling out his sketchbook to flip through the pictures. Tony and Bruce were right; Loki had singled him out for a reason. He could sit back and wait until the reason behind Loki’s behavior was revealed or he could view it as an opportunity to do something good. 

Loki had wanted to understand something about humanity and he’d come to Steve for answers. That meant something.

He smiled, fingers tapping against a portrait of Loki. While the others were focused on finding Bucky, he would find a way to neutralize Loki as a threat. That was better than waffles. His instincts told him that Christmas had caught Loki’s attention for a reason and he needed to understand why. And maybe, just as Natasha had been right about the portal that day, getting Loki to turn away from being a villain wasn’t about guns either. 

Maybe it was about art and movies and Christmas.

**

On Christmas Eve, Steve woke in the middle of the night. His room was dark; the alarm clock put out a faint blue light. Even in the darkness, he knew that he wasn’t alone.

“JARVIS, lights,” he said, voice thick and hoarse from sleep.

The lights began to turn on, moving slowly from darkness to light so that his eyes could adjust without the pain of sudden brightness. His heart thudded in his chest when he saw the figure seated in his favorite chair; long, pale fingers slowly turned through the pages of his sketchbook.

He decided that his first goal would be to convince Loki not to make any more unannounced and undetectable visits to Stark Tower.

“These are a good likeness,” Loki said, not looking up from the sketches. “And no, Stark’s computer cannot see or hear me.”  
Steve rubbed at his face. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he slid his feet into a pair of worn slippers and stood up.

“Will you be requiring assistance, Captain?” JARVIS asked primly.

“Just need a drink, thanks,” he answered. To fulfill the charade, he padded into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water. He sat back down on the bed, watching Loki. The reason Loki had informed him that JARVIS could neither see nor hear him was obvious. He wasn’t entirely sure what the policy on privacy was in Stark Tower, but he didn’t doubt that JARVIS was monitoring everyone at all times. If Steve carried on a conversation with thin air, even JARVIS would question his sanity and it could expose Loki’s presence. 

Loki was testing him.

“JARVIS,” he said. “Could you turn on the ocean sounds? That helps me sleep.”

“Of course, sir.”

The room immediately filled with the quiet sounds of ocean waves lapping against a beach. He finished the glass of water and set it on the bedside table. It was more than an act of faith for him to ask JARVIS to turn the lights off and lie back down in bed, knowing Loki was still seated in the chair and not knowing why he’d appeared in his bedroom in the middle of the night.

Cool, strong fingers touched his hand about a minute after the lights went out. Steve forced himself not to recoil or flinch away. Loki’s grip tightened around his wrist and then the world fell out from under him. Instinctively, he sat up and reached out for something to hold onto. All he felt was Loki. The world seemed to spin and then come into focus and he was somewhere else. He blinked at the change around him. Loki let go of his wrist and moved away. 

The apartment looked like it had come from one of Tony’s magazines. It was sleek and modern, with several interesting furniture pieces that gave it an industrial feel. He put his hands down and realized he was sitting on a thick rug spread over a dark, hardwood floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he took in the leather sofa and armchair. There was a large flat screen television mounted to the wall on his left, above a sleekly modern, self-contained fireplace where the fire burned up through glass marbles in a perfectly straight line. He turned slowly; there was a doorway that led into a bedroom and an open concept kitchen. One wall of the kitchen was floor to ceiling windows and he could see the lights of the city outside. The whole apartment smelled of pine trees.

“I have chosen a movie,” Loki said from the kitchen. He pulled a large bowl from one of the cabinets and Steve realized that he was making microwave popcorn.

“You could’ve called,” Steve began. The words had died on his tongue when he saw the Christmas tree along the wall between the fireplace and the kitchen. Its branches were still bare of all but thick, dark green needles. A pile of boxes containing glittering ornaments and lights was stacked neatly beside the tree. He decided that the conversation about appearing in Stark Tower could wait. Instead, he took a seat on the leather sofa and watched. This was Loki’s territory and he needed to be mindful of that. Inside the microwave, the popcorn settled into a steady rhythm.

“Were you expecting a cave?” Loki asked, a touch of humor in his voice.

“I see more laboratories than caves as far as evil villain lairs go.” He studied the prints on the walls. They were prolific; nearly every square inch of wall space was covered with a print or photograph. Loki’s taste was very eclectic and no single artistic style dominated.

“There are no watching eyes and listening ears here.” The bitterness in Loki’s voice seemed far greater than JARVIS deserved.

He made a mental note; Loki resented being under surveillance.

The microwave dinged. Steve shifted, trying to work some of the nervous tension from his shoulders. Loki pulled the popcorn from the microwave and dumped it into the bowl; he seemed to have adapted to technology more easily than Steve had. Then again, he couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of technology they might have on Asgard; maybe Earth was primitive compared to what Loki was used to. When Loki returned from the kitchen, he was carrying a six pack of dark ale as well. He placed the popcorn and beer on the stainless steel coffee table and moved toward the television.

Steve reached for a handful of popcorn and pulled one of the bottles of beer from the carton. ”Thanks.”

“I’ve found that what you call beer is inadequate.” Loki’s voice was muffled as he worked with the DVD player. Finally, he was satisfied and returned to the armchair with a remote control. “Neither of us will feel the effects of this.” Still, he reached out and took a bottle.

Later, Steve decided that he should’ve known Loki would choose _The Nightmare Before Christmas_.

He was transfixed by the movie. Not only had he never seen anything like it, he couldn’t believe how far animation had come since _Snow White_ and _Bambi_. He marveled at the textures and the strangeness of the characters. The effort of Jack Skellington to understand Christmas made him glance over at Loki, who had settled in the armchair sideways, his long legs draped over the arm. There was a slight furrow in Loki’s brow, as though he was struggling through the same questions as Jack.

It felt strange and Steve realized that he’d become used to the noise and commotion of Stark Tower, of Tony himself, but Loki was all silence and shadows. This Loki, the Loki who was curled up in a leather armchair with a beer in his hands and his green eyes wide at the television screen in front of him; this Loki was as different from the being who had attacked New York City as it was possible for a man to be. Steve knew that once he was back in his room, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d captured this image in his sketches. Each one of his drawings was a study in shadow; as though he could pull apart the mystery of who Loki was with the lead of his pencils.

When the credits started, Steve pulled another beer from the carton and twisted off the top. He held it out, waiting patiently. Loki’s eyes moved from the beer to his face and back, quick and fleeting looks indicative of a well worn habit of suspecting a trick or a betrayal. The mask of indifference returned in a moment and he accepted the bottle.

“What did you think?” Steve nodded toward the printed white names scrolling up the screen. 

“I suppose I am the Pumpkin King,” Loki answered noncommittally. He finished his first bottle of ale in a long swallow and stood up, the second bottle in his hand. His focus fell to the pine tree. He studied it with a thoroughness that Steve was beginning to realize was part of what made Loki so dangerous. Steve had no doubt that Loki had been able to simply look at a microwave and figure out how it worked. After all, he saw the world in a way that allowed him to twist space and time as though it was nothing more than a parlor trick.

No wonder the concept of Christmas seemed to vex him so completely. 

“Do you want help decorating it?” Steve got to his feet. His slippers were soundless against the thick rug. “Where did you find it? It’s beautiful.”

“I believe it is called Colorado.”

Steve laughed and rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. He just hoped that Loki hadn’t taken it out of someone’s front yard. Crouching down beside the boxes of ornaments and lights, he began to sort through them. The strings of lights were all the small size, LEDs, and white; another marvel of modern technology. He set his beer aside to open the boxes and pull out the plastic trays holding the wires in place. 

It took them nearly an hour to figure out how to work together; how to give and take with the strands of lights so they weren’t fighting against each other every inch of the way. The flashes of impatience in Loki’s eyes were tempered by something else, something that Steve didn’t recognize.

Once the lights were on and the tree glittered as though its branches were dusted with stars, they opened up the boxes of ornaments. Everything was blue or white or silver or crystal. Steve held up a shimmering globe of white and silver, eying the tree for the perfect position. He’d expected green, gold, and black, since those seemed to be Loki’s colors. As the branches filled up with shimmering bulbs and strands of sparkling crystal garland, it reminded him of a perfectly still winter night where the snow lay glistening in the moonlight. He thought of the second time he’d seen Loki in New York and how he’d frozen one of Doom’s killing machines.

Reclaiming his beer, Steve stepped back to admire their work. “It’s perfect.”

“Perhaps,” Loki began hesitantly. He waved his hand, his fingers dancing through the air, and suddenly the tree was decorated in fierce red and gold.

“Whoa,” Steve breathed, swallowing down more beer to keep from stammering like a child. “I liked it the other way.”

The corner of Loki’s lips twitched as though there was a smile trying to show itself. His hand swept through the air again and the tree returned to its glittering, wintery theme. He began to close and straighten up the boxes into another even pile. He waved his hand over those as well and the entire pile disappeared.

“Where did they go?” Steve asked with genuine curiously.

“Merely put away in a closet.” Long fingers snagged the neck of his beer bottle as he stood. He returned to the armchair, settling into it as though it were a throne.

“Why did you get a Christmas tree?”

Loki’s eyes were fixed on his beer bottle. “Much like the creature in that movie, I wished to understand the meaning of these hollow symbols.”

“It’s more than just a tree. It’s about spending time decorating it, like we did. Spending time with family. About putting the presents under the tree and waiting, not knowing if you got what you wished for and hoping the people you love will enjoy what you got them.”

“A strange tradition indeed,” Loki said with quiet amusement.

Steve sat down on the sofa, leaning back into the leather and letting the beer bottle roll between his fingers. “Why did you give me the cuff links?”

The cascade of emotions on Loki’s face and his perfectly still silence said more than Steve could catch or decipher. He saw hope and fear and anger; the brittle, sharp edged smile returned and somehow Steve had stumbled into unfamiliar territory again. Once again, he thought that maybe Loki himself didn’t always understand his own actions.

“I sought to repay you in some way,” Loki answered coldly.

“For California?”

“Yes.” It came out through clenched teeth. “I did not wish to be in your debt.”

Pride, Steve realized. Perhaps Loki didn’t know how to thank someone for showing him kindness; perhaps he’d never had reason to know how. A hundred questions crowded into his mind, but he knew he had to be careful. One wrong word and Loki would slam shut as tight as a vault and it would be that much harder to convince him that he didn’t need to be one of their enemies. 

“Can you tell me what happened to you?” Steve asked, his eyes on the tree instead of Loki.

Loki’s laugh was icy and bitter. “Are you trying to save me, Captain?”

“Just trying to understand.”

“What is there to understand?”

Steve didn’t often glare at people; he didn’t have it in him. But he turned to Loki and he glared. “You’re smarter than that. You fell from the sky, cut to ribbons and burned. What happened to you? How did you get here? Where were you for six months? And if you can go anywhere you want, if you can get a Christmas tree from Colorado, why stay here? You walk into Stark Tower like it’s Central Park and that drives Tony crazy, by the way. Tell me why you’re still on Earth, still in New York City, when there are eight other realms you could be in right now other than this one.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, just momentarily, and then he leaned further back into the armchair. “Odin’s elite guards are the Einherjar. They know neither mercy nor compassion, only the will of the Allfather. They are the executioner to Odin’s judge and jury.” His eyes shuttered, only barely open but still watchful. “They also dole out punishment as the Allfather sees fit and such was mine. As it was once my choice to fall from the Bifrost, so it was the Allfather’s choice that I be punished and then thrown from its edge a second time. This time, to fall where he wished.”

Steve tried not to fill in the blanks as to how the Einherjar had cut deep slices into Loki’s flesh. “And he sent you here.” 

“I can only suppose.” He raised his beer to his lips and took a long swallow. “Naturally, the Allfather is ever wise and his motives are beyond question.”

“No king is infallible.”

Loki laughed, his head thrown back and his lips in a wide smile. “The Allfather is no king. He is God and Father to the Nine Realms; he touches the very power of the Universe. Or so the legends say.” Green eyes, their focus still far away, turned dark and stormy. “It is true; I can leave this realm whenever I wish. But there is nowhere for me to go. As you are so fond of saying in this Realm; there is no rest for the wicked.”

The stabbing ache of loneliness, of being an exile in a world that wasn’t familiar and wasn’t home, was something that Steve knew well. He saw that same loneliness etched into the sharpness of Loki’s smile, in the brightness of his eyes, and heard it echoing in the bitter laughter. What he saw and heard before him now was a man who was raw and shattered on the inside where none of the damage was visible, but the wounds bled just the same. He’d seen it in the War and knew what a man looked like when he was haunted by the specters of his past. 

As he let the beer bottle still in his hands, Steve realized just how dangerous the game he was playing actually was; Loki was damaged, unstable, and searching for meaning. 

Loki inhaled, any hint of vulnerability gone and the mask of cold indifference returning once again. He downed the rest of his ale and set the bottle on the coffee table. Without warning, he reached out and his strong fingers latched around Steve’s wrist once again and pulled him to his feet. This time, Steve had an instant to brace himself against the falling sensation as the world was pulled from under him and spun around him, coming back once again in the darkness of his bedroom in Stark Tower.

Blind and fumbling, Steve stumbled back and felt the side of his bed against the back of his legs. His hand caught Loki’s as he pulled away, partly to keep from falling and partly to be certain where the man was. He could see only the barest outline of a figure in the dim light cast by his alarm clock. Refusing to let go, he reached his left hand out and felt the solid bulk of Loki’s chest. Under his touch, Loki was as tense as steel cable, but he didn’t pull away. Of course, Loki had returned him rather than talk to him. Bringing him back to Stark Tower was a taunt, a challenge. He’d given Steve a few answers that felt more like riddles and then returned him, daring him to continue speaking and reveal Loki’s presence.

If he alerted JARVIS, whatever trust that he was slowly building with Loki would snap into pieces and it would all be worthless. His clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain silent. Loki may not want to continue talking to him, but Steve was going to make sure Loki realized that he wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily. How he was going to do that, he had no idea. Without words, all he could do to make his point was not let go.

Steve relaxed his grip just enough that his hand slid down against Loki’s palm; their fingers just barely woven together. His nose bumped against what might have been Loki’s jaw; he could feel breath against his cheek.

It was a brush; a touch that became a kiss as Loki’s lips, cool and dry, pressed against his. He felt Loki’s fingers tighten around his own and pulled closer, burying his hand in hair made of shadows at the nape of Loki’s neck. His heart was racing, galloping, inside his chest; part of him was screaming that what he was doing was wrong, that he had to stop. Part of him felt as though it had come awake for the first time since the ice.

Loki broke away, leaving Steve unsteady and stunned. “Merry Christmas, Captain Rogers.”

Then there was only emptiness in front of him. He stumbled back and collapsed onto the bed, his hands shaking violently. The alarm clock told him it was only an hour before dawn. He crawled under the covers and buried his face in the pillows. Loki was so far beyond what he knew and could handle; he’d taken Steve’s refusal to let go and turned it back on him like a weapon.

Natasha would’ve anticipated this. She knew how to deal with someone like Loki; someone who was shifting quicksilver and always five steps ahead. Except that Natasha was far too smart to attempt to grapple with Loki more than once. 

Maybe it wasn’t about guns. 

He was pretty sure that he had no idea what it was about anymore.

**

On Christmas morning, Tony offered them all a chance to step into one of his Iron Man suits.

Steve and Bruce said no. 

Natasha took a spin around the tower; she didn’t seem impressed.

Rhodey called three hours later to tell them they’d better come get Clint before the Air Force shot him down.


	4. Christmas the Third

“Something on your mind, Cap?” Clint asked without turning around or looking over his shoulders. He was still as he held the bow string back, his concentration absolute. The string snapped forward with little more than a whirr of sound and the arrow thudded into the target down range a moment later.

Steve had been leaning against the wall and watching Clint practice for several minutes. He didn’t have a plan, just questions. “I was hoping I could talk to you.”

The bow lowered as Clint turned around, one eyebrow raised. “Must be about something you think I don’t want to talk about.”

Either Clint and Natasha had spent too much time together or they’d been born kindred spirits. Steve nodded, folding his arms. “Loki.”

“Not gonna happen, Cap.” Clint turned back to the range and raised his bow again.

“I’m sure you had to talk to someone. I’m sure SHIELD didn’t let you back into the field until they were convinced that you were clear.” It was an unfair tactic and Steve knew it. He saw Clint flinch and the arrow thudded into the target off center.

“Don’t put much stock in therapy. If you want a recommendation, I’m sure Tony’s got a head doc on speed dial.”

“I want to understand, that’s all. What it felt like.”

Clint rounded on him, his brow furrowed. “What it felt like? Like having my soul ripped out and my body taken over by something else. It felt like drowning without the water, like I couldn’t,” he stopped short and straightened. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. “That’s what this is about.”

Steve frowned. “What?”

“You’re worried that Loki’s gotten into your head, that he’s controlling you somehow.” Clint stripped off his quiver and motioned for Steve to follow him. “Not sure if I can help you. I’m no Selvig, but I can tell you it wasn’t just Loki. It was the Tesseract controlling me and Loki controlling the Tesseract, if that makes sense. When I was…whatever you want to call it, all I knew was that my loyalty was to Loki. That he was right, that he was doing the right thing. I believed in it, I believed in him.”

The pit of Steve’s stomach churned. He followed Clint into the makeshift workspace that Clint had built in what used to be a janitor’s closet before Tony had turned the basement level floor into a weapons range. Little by little, Clint had collected tools, a sturdy wooden stool, and a long work bench. Along one wall, he’d hung his other bows and quivers. Some of the bows were in various states of repair and there appeared to be a few that he was actively modifying.

“Why do you think he picked you, Cap?” Clint set his bow and quiver onto the workbench and settled onto the stool, his arms folded.

Steve sighed heavily. “I honestly don’t know. Tony and Bruce think it’s because of what happened in California and I don’t have a better theory.” He leaned against the workbench, not quite meeting Clint’s gaze. It felt like something cold was wriggling up his spine every time he looked at Clint and thought about Loki. 

“Seems a good guess. But you don’t think that’s it. Why not?”

The cold feeling crawled further up his neck. “Because that only gets me so far. It might’ve explained why he destroyed that Doombot last year. Or the cuff links. Or Canada. But not all of it. If he’d wanted to repay me for helping him, he would’ve done something to wipe the slate clean and that would’ve been it. He wouldn’t have stuck around.”

“You think he’s interested in you for another reason. Some other game he’s playing.”

Nodding his agreement, Steve paced restlessly and let his eyes move over the tools of Clint’s trade. He had no idea what most of them were. “Is he trying to mess with my head? Why? To get to the team or just because he can. What does he get out of this?” He was half talking to Clint and half to himself. Nothing that happened in California explained the movies or the kiss. Loki – _Loki_ – had kissed him and then wished him Merry Christmas. Loki didn’t even understand Christmas.

“Well, you’re not possessed. If you were, you wouldn’t question what he was doing. I never did.”

“What do I do?” Steve asked, his voice barely audible. “If I play along with his game, whatever it is, maybe…I don’t know. If I don’t, maybe that’s worse.”

Clint studied him for a long time. Finally, he nodded. “I get it.”

“You do?” Not even Steve felt like he understood any of it.

“I’m the one who twitches every time someone says Loki’s name.” Clint grimaced as he said it. “And you’re stuck. You play along and Loki might stab you in the back, might stab all of us in the back. But if you don’t, he might do something worse.” Almost absently, he reached out and plucked one of his arrows from the workbench, spinning it through his fingers. “You need to talk to Natasha.”

“So she can tell me that I’m out of my mind?”

“No one does undercover better than the Black Widow. Trust me.” His eyes were cool and steely when he looked up. “And that’s you’re doing. You’ll play Loki’s game until you figure out what it is and what it means. That’s why you came down here, because if I’d told you that I didn’t like it and that we’d take our chances with Loki coming after us, you’d listen.”

“Am I that obvious?” Steve asked, although he hadn’t realized that’s exactly what he’d come down for.

Clint grinned. “You’re Captain America. No one expects you to be subtle.” He tossed the arrow back onto the workbench. “I’m guessing that Loki won’t want you talking to SHIELD about this. His conditions will be that it’s you alone and the rest of us are kept in the dark. He won’t say it outright but he’ll put you in situations where you’ll be compromised. He’ll test you.”

“It is a little scary that you know this, Clint.”

Clint’s eyebrows rose. “Then he already has.” He leaned back on the stool and sucked in a breath. “So you can see him when he drops by to piss Tony off. Even though everything Stark’s got in this place can’t so much as catch his shadow. And he knows that.”

“I’ve only seen him one time,” Steve said quickly.

With a low whistle, Clint stood up and for the door. “You need a plan and you need Natasha. Come on.”

There was a sense of purpose in Clint’s stride that hadn’t been there before and, despite Steve being inches taller and having longer legs, he had to make an effort to keep up. He wasn’t sure that he wanted both Natasha and Clint to be staring at him; he felt like an open book around Clint alone and Natasha would be worse. Nervously, he rubbed at the back of his neck on the elevator ride up and wished he hadn’t decided to approach Clint. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Clint had good reasons to hate Loki, even more than the rest of them. He’d expected Clint to question his loyalty to SHIELD and to the Avengers, to humanity itself. How could Steve do anything but try to capture Loki? The city was still rebuilding from the devastation that he’d caused; there were whole buildings within blocks of Stark Tower that were still sealed off and waiting for repair or demolition.

They found Natasha in the living area on the residential floor, her body moving gracefully through a Tai Chi routine. Clint settled onto one of the couches and propped his boots up on the coffee table.

“You gentlemen need something?” Natasha asked, sounding more amused than annoyed that they’d interrupted her. She continued to move through each pose, her breathing steady and focused. “Or are you really that bored?”

“Cap’s gotten himself into a bit of a sticky situation.”

“Figured he would,” she said lightly. “Loki?”

Steve stared at them both. He sat down, letting his head fall back onto the cushions. “Don’t ever let Tony talk me into playing poker. With any of you.”

“You’ve been tied up in knots since Canada, Cap.” Natasha settled onto the floor, stretching her arms out over her legs until her nose was against her knees.

“And Tony’s decision to go after Winter Soldier didn’t help,” Clint added.

Natasha’s voice was muffled. “Made you even more twitchy, actually.” She straightened back up and brushed her hair behind her ears. “You’ve been walking around this place with guilt written all over your face for days.”

“Cap figures Loki’s playing him for something.”

“Of course he is.” She folded into a cross-legged pose, eyes half closed as though she was meditating.

“You would’ve figured out what it is by now. I have no clue,” Steve said, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into his voice.

Natasha shook her head a little. “Loki’s not the type to underestimate an opponent twice. He held all the cards last time; he was arrogant, over-confident, and he made a mistake. This time is different. It’s going to be a lot harder for you to get him to show his hand.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You don’t have to.” Natasha reached for her water bottle. “Right now, Loki thinks that he’s the one in control. He comes to you, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, not seeing her meaning.

“Apparently it’s not only human men who think being the aggressor is always the position of power. If he’s coming to you, it’s because you have something that he wants, not the other way around. You’ve got the control here, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck again, feeling his face heat with the memory of Loki’s lips against his. That could not possibly be what Loki wanted. But Natasha’s words made a certain sort of sense and offered a possible explanation for why Loki seemed to want to keep Steve off balance. “It really doesn’t feel like I’m in control. And what good does it do to have something he wants if I have no idea what that is?” 

“It could be as simple as he thinks you’re the least likely to try to kill him on sight and he wants to keep us all on the radar, just in case.”

“So I’m the weak link.”

Surprisingly, Natasha laughed. “Loki will exploit your strengths as well as your weaknesses. I’d do the same if we were on opposite sides. You’re a good man; he knows that. He knows you’ll want justice rather than vengeance and you’ll think before you rush into something. He’ll use it against you.”

Steve felt his face burn hotter. “Thanks. I think.”

Clint’s face split in a wide grin and he winked at Steve. “Told you she was the best.” 

“How does he contact you?”

“Other than appearing in my bedroom in the middle of the night?” Steve asked. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he winced as they both stared incredulously at him. “He, uh, texts me. Sometimes.”

“You figured out how to text?” Clint asked. 

“How many times has he shown up in your bedroom?” Natasha asked at the same time, her eyes narrowing.

Steve buried his face in his hands, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “Look, I can’t stop him from appearing whenever and wherever he wants and he does something to make it so JARVIS can’t see or hear him. It felt like he was testing me, waiting for me to say or do something and alert everyone that he was here.”

Natasha took a sip from her water bottle, her eyes never leaving him. Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes at Clint. “Loki’s going to eat him for breakfast.”

“Hey!” Steve protested.

“You don’t have it in you, Cap.” She shrugged. Setting the water bottle aside, she placed her palms behind her and leaned back. “You can’t be anything other than what you are. You don’t have hidden motives, you wear your heart on your sleeve; you’re fireworks and apple pie and chopped down cherry trees. You are nothing like Loki.” Her voice turned thoughtful, brow furrowing. Tipping her head to side, she considered Steve for a moment. “Have you heard the saying, when you dance with the devil, the devil doesn’t change, the devil changes you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s what’s at stake here, Steve.” Her tone was serious and it was the first time that he could remember her actually using his name in months, if not years. “Loki isn’t testing you because he thinks you’re the weak link. He wants to see how much he can change you, influence you. He’ll look for your breaking point. And I’m betting you’re trying to change him too, even if you don’t realize you are, because that’s who you are.”

“How can you be sure?” He watched her look to Clint, either for agreement or dissent.

Clint thought about it, arms folded and fingers drumming against his biceps. “I think Natasha’s on to something. It probably isn’t that simple, but when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object, the details don’t really matter.”

The idea that Loki would try to change him made Steve extremely uncomfortable. Not because he believed it was possible, but because it made him rethink all of his interactions with Loki. He’d been so focused on gathering information about Loki that he hadn’t realized what kind of information he might be giving away. Sure, he’d been careful never to talk about anything that would endanger the Avengers or SHIELD, but he hadn’t thought that Loki could use personal information about his life against him. Decorating a Christmas tree and watching a movie seemed completely innocuous and normal, but maybe that was because Loki had meant it to seem that way. Maybe it was nothing more an experiment and he was the rat inside Loki’s maze.

“Just be yourself, Cap.” Natasha gave him a half-smile.

Steve sighed. “He’s going to eat me for breakfast.”

**

Tony planned the ultimate, Avengers-worthy New Year’s Eve party. He reserved an entire hotel, invited anyone who was anyone, and brought in enough champagne to hand out bottles to half the city. Steve was awkward in another suit, the shield cuff links the only part of the get up that felt familiar. Everyone with black hair caught his eye, but none of them were Loki. The longer it went with no unexpected visits, the more he doubted himself, doubted all of it. Maybe it had all been a dream after all.

The screaming started after the firework show reached its finale, which was seconds after the bursts of burning fragments reformed into a gargantuan snake that twisted through the streets of New York spewing green fire. 

They scrambled, racing back to Stark Tower. Steve had his jacket and tie off and half of the buttons of his shirt undone when he hit the door to the armory. As his hand touched the latch to the cabinet where his suit and shield were, he felt cold air against the back of his neck. There was pressure against his shoulder, the slightest touch of a hand, and then the feeling of the world falling away from beneath his feet.

He stumbled, reaching out for something solid as the world slammed back into reality around him. “Loki! What are you doing? I can’t...”

It had been cold in New York City, so he was surprised to feel warm air against his chest and neck. The ground under his feet shifted; he looked down to see white sand. His slick black dress shoes offered no traction on the shifting surface. When he turned around, he saw that Loki was already moving toward a pair of slat wood beach chairs. Barefoot, he was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a lightweight button up shirt in pale blue that fell loosely over his lean frame. A pair of sunglasses held his dark hair out of his face. If Steve hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought Loki was just a regular guy at the beach.

“Loki!” Steve struggled to walk in the sand and ended up stopping to wrench his shoes off. “There are people in trouble! Take me back.”

“It is harmless,” Loki answered without concern. He settled into one of the chairs and leaned back to bask in the last remaining rays of the setting sun. “Well, mostly harmless.”

“What?” Steve tossed his shoes, jacket, and tie onto the sand and scowled down at Loki. “You did that. You created that thing and set it loose on the city.”

“It wasn’t difficult.”

“It caused mass panic in the streets on New Year’s Eve, Loki. People will get hurt.” 

“Relax. Have a drink.” Loki motioned to a metal tub between the chairs. It was filled with ice and several of what looked like champagne bottles. 

Steve raked his hands through his hair. He felt as though he’d been on pins and needles for days, waiting for the other shoe to drop or to wake up and discover he’d dreamed the whole thing. Thinking of Natasha’s words, he tried to calm down, tried to plan his words and his strategy. Loki had created a distraction big enough to keep the Avengers busy in order to take him. He looked around, his brain finally registering the beach, the two chairs, and the champagne.

Was this a date?

He sat down on the chair and took a deep breath. “You can’t keep appearing and hauling me off to…who knows where.”

Loki’s eyes were closed; his mouth curled into an amused smile. “You would prefer to set boundaries for our interactions.”

“Of course I would. I can’t…I can’t just up and disappear. There are people who depend on me, who need me to be there.” 

“And you are the soul of dependability.”

“I’m part of a team. Something you obviously don’t understand.” He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, but couldn’t reel them back. Natasha had told him to be himself and being there for his team was who he was.

Loki’s chest rose slowly as he inhaled, his grip tightening noticeably on the arms of the wooden chair. The amused smile was gone. “You are going to miss the sunset, Captain Rogers.”

Something in Steve snapped. “Take me back.”

Finally, Loki opened his eyes. “And if I don’t?”

“Fine.” Steve gathered up his clothes and shoes. “Are there people around or did you drop me on an uninhabited island in the middle of the ocean?”

Tightness around Loki’s mouth was the only indication that he was listening; he remained stonily silent.

“I’ll find out myself then.” Steve started toward the line of palm trees further up the beach. There appeared to be dense vegetation beyond them; he hoped there was a resort nearby or at least a village with a phone of some kind. When he reached more solid ground and the vegetation began, he saw Loki leaning against a tree. He stopped and folded his arms.

Loki pushed away from the tree; the setting sun cast interesting shadows over his face. “If I agree to your conditions, will that prevent you from your fruitless search for a way back?”

“I set the terms for when you can kidnap me and when you can’t. Then I’ll stay.”

“Kidnap is rather a strong word.”

“I set the terms,” Steve repeated firmly.

Loki exhaled loudly, as though bothered by a particularly annoying but inconsequential insect, and waved his hand. “Very well. Name your conditions.”

“And you’ll hold to them. Give me your word.”

His laughter was the sound of silver bells in the warm air. “And what is my word worth to the great Captain America?”

“If you give me your word, I’ll believe you.”

“Is that your faith in humanity talking?” Loki moved closer, something predatory in the roll of his shoulders. “Need I remind you that I am not human?”

“No more distractions. No taking me away when the others need me.” Steve ignored the obvious challenge, knowing that Loki was trying to bait him and push him into irritation. “And you’ll come in the front door of Stark Tower like everyone else.”

“Stark doesn’t use the front door,” Loki retorted. He moved, unhurried, past Steve and back toward the chairs waiting on the beach.

“Then stop hiding from JARVIS.” Steve followed, waiting for an answer. None of his conditions had seemed to spark any anger in Loki, which was both a relief and a worry. Loki’s general lack of concern was beginning to concern him. Not that he didn’t believe even wayward, world-conquering Asgardians could have good days, but he wondered if this was merely the calm before the storm.

“You demand a great deal, Captain.”

“It’s up to you.” Steve stopped several feet away from the chairs, clothes and shoes still in hand. “If you agree, then we open those bottles of champagne and welcome in the New Year. Together. If you don’t, then you’re drinking alone.”

“If I were to show myself in Stark’s tower, I would be shot on sight.” Loki settled back into his chair.

“Tony’s working on a way to track you and, to do it, he needs Banner to beat the crap out of you first.” Steve hadn’t planned on warning Loki of Tony’s plans. “But I’ll give you my word that no one will try to hurt you if you show yourself willingly.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Can you make that promise for everyone? Even Agent Barton?”

Steve only hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

“Very well.” Loki opened his hands and held them out in a gesture of peace. “I accept your conditions.”

He hadn’t actually expected Loki to agree. To hide his surprise, he carefully folded his jacket and tie and placed them along with his shoes near the foot of the chair. Loki pulled one of the bottles from the tub and brushed away water from its sides. Slender fingers worked the wires around the cork; it came out with a loud pop. Steve didn’t see where the glasses came from; they seemed to appear out of thin air. The champagne was sweeter than he’d expected and warmed the pit of his stomach in a pleasant way. He settled into the chair and leaned back. The sun was already beginning to dip into the edge of the ocean, turning the sky a blaze of red and orange. There were a million questions he wanted to ask, but they all boiled down to a single word and answers that he knew he would never get.

“Relax, Captain,” Loki said with a smile. “It is a beach. There is alcohol. I understand both of these are intended to be calming.”

“How can I relax when I have no idea what you want from me?” He drained his glass of champagne, wishing it would have some effect, and held it out when Loki raised the bottle in a silent offer. “Are you planning to take over my mind? Or kill me? Maybe you just get your kicks out of messing with me.”

“And what answer would ease your mind?”

Steve laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Assuming you tell me the truth?”

“Assuming,” Loki repeated, a faint smile on his lips.

“Alright then, what do you do every day?”

Loki leaned back in the chair, his eyes falling closed. “I have been to the ends of this Realm and back, watching and listening. Learning.”

Steve found the wooden chair surprisingly comfortable when he leaned back. “If you’re planning another take-over, you’ll have to deal with the Avengers. Again.”

“Mortal lives are over in the blink of an eye. I need merely to outlive you,” Loki said airily. “Something which, I assure you, I am quite capable of doing.”

It was something Steve hadn’t considered before; Loki didn’t need to attack them outright if he didn’t want to. If Asgardians lived for millennia, then the timescale on which his plans unfolded could span generations of human beings. As Steve thought about that, he realized that he had never considered his own lifespan and what effect the serum would have on how long he lived. At the time, he’d assumed that he would die in the war. Now, he realized, he’d assumed that there would eventually be a fight against one of SHIELD’s enemies that he didn’t walk away from. Growing old hadn’t been something he’d given much thought.

Loki broke the silence, his tone still one of complete ease and relaxation. “Why is Doom fixated on Susan Storm?”

“I, um, I think he was in love with her. Before,” Steve answered uncertainly. “Why? Do you know something? Is Doom coming after Sue?” His stomach twisted at the thought of Loki and Doctor Doom working together.

Loki brushed the questions away with a wave of his hand. “Idle curiosity. It is hardly difficult to see his childish obsession with her. He is a fool and his fixation will be his undoing.”

“Maybe.” Steve glanced over and noticed that Loki hadn’t touched his champagne. “Haven’t you ever loved someone enough to do something stupid?”

The muscles of Loki’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer, but he did finally pick up his glass and swallowed down the champagne. Somehow, they had already emptied one bottle between them. Loki twisted in the chair to reach for another, his gaze somewhere out over the horizon. The sun had disappeared and twilight was settling in around them. It was still warm, despite the breeze that had picked up with the sunset. 

He seemed to make a decision; his expression shifting from casual disinterest to watchful. “Who is the Winter Soldier to you, Captain? Why does SHIELD search for him? At first, I thought he was merely another of SHIELD’s many targets, but that is not the case, is it?”

It was Steve’s turn to look out at the ocean. He didn’t want to talk about Bucky with Loki; he didn’t want to dig up those memories or think about what it meant that Bucky was alive. Still, he’d plunged forward into this – whatever it was – with Loki and he couldn’t expect honesty where he wasn’t prepared to give it himself. Finally, he loosened his tongue. “He was someone I knew from before the ice.”

“And was he, as you put it, someone you would do something stupid for?”

Steve laughed a little, ruefully. “Already did. Went up against a HYDRA base just hoping he was still alive and pulled him out. It was the first time I’d ever jumped out of a plane.”

“You believed him dead, when you awoke in this time.” It wasn’t a question.

Steve shut his eyes against the image of Bucky falling away into the icy canyon below him. “Before Canada, yeah.” He frowned, considering asking Loki if there had been more to his appearance in Canada other than being on vacation. They still hadn’t figured out how he seemed to know so much about SHIELD’s operations. “I didn’t know the Winter Soldier was Bucky until afterward. After we got back. Did you know?”

“I knew only that SHIELD hunted him.”

He rolled his head to the side to watch Loki’s expression. “And how, exactly, did you know?”

Loki smirked. “I am hardly going to tell you that.”

“Why not?” He motioned vaguely to the setting around them. “It’s a beach, there’s champagne. You’re calling the shots here.”

“Is this another condition you wish to make, Captain? You may find me less agreeable if it is.” There was an edge of ice to his words; his eyes glittered in the fading light.

Steve shivered, just slightly. It was too easy, he decided, to forget what Loki was capable of. He considered his words carefully, as though each would be a step into a minefield. “Is it the cuff links? I like them and I’d rather not hand them over to SHIELD.”

“They are merely baubles.”

The conversation lapsed into silence. Steve watched the moon begin to track above them in the sky, bright and full. It cast enough light that he could see the tips of the waves coming to shore and the outline of the palm trees behind them. The sky blazed with more stars than he ever remembered seeing in his life, certainly more than he could see in the New York City night sky. Warm wind swept over them; there were animals in the protection of the undergrowth, he could hear birds of some kind and what were probably frogs.

“This is a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?” he asked.

Loki’s cat-like smile was lit by moonlight. “Not another soul for a hundred miles.” 

Steve sighed, but it was a sigh of acceptance as he relaxed further into the chair. The wooden slats were still warm from the sun and, despite knowing that he couldn’t get drunk, his body was beginning to feel pleasantly loosened. He wouldn’t be going anywhere until Loki decided to take him home or until Tony managed to locate him. The idea of having all of the Avengers implanted with a GPS tracker had been proposed before, but he hadn’t seen the point until now. He didn’t object when Loki refilled his glass another time. 

“Happy New Year, I guess. This is certainly the strangest New Year’s I’ve ever had.” The champagne was cool and sweet on his tongue. “Do they have anything like New Year’s on Asgard?”

Loki seemed to consider that. “I suppose. There is a period of time when the Allfather sleeps, during which he and Asgard are vulnerable. It is typically the time at which those who bear ill will toward Asgard choose to attack. Once Odin awakens, there is a celebration. It is not frequent, like your mortal years, nor always predictable, but the sentiment is much the same; a restoration and a new beginning.” His words were softly and carefully spoken; there was an undercurrent of darkness in his voice that made it clear he didn’t want Steve to pursue the subject further.

“Why do you talk to me?” Steve asked and then cringed as he realized how awkward he sounded. “I mean, it’s not like you have to explain your magic or tell me about Asgard when I ask. You could say no.”

“It costs me nothing. I have given you no information that you could use against me.”

“It’s not that.” He suddenly wished that there was light enough to see Loki’s face clearly. “Don’t you have anyone else to talk to?” He was genuinely puzzled as to why Loki wanted to spend time with him at all, let alone kidnap him and drag him to a deserted island.

“Mortals are not terribly interesting,” Loki said dismissively. “They are small and petty and unable to think beyond their own immediate, foolish desires.”

“And Asgardians are all the pinnacles of refined conversation? I’ve met your brother.” Steve could actually feel the irritation and anger rolling off of Loki in waves at the mention of Thor. He simply leaned back in his chair and drank his glass of champagne. Hopefully Natasha was right and there was something Loki wanted that he could only get by not killing him.

Unexpectedly, Loki began to laugh. “You are far more clever than Stark gives you credit for, Captain.”

“And somehow, I’m the one on the island, drinking with the God of Mischief and Lies. Pretty sure Tony would call me the biggest idiot on the planet.”

“Would you agree with him?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I know you’re playing with me. That this is some kind of game for you. I have no idea what you’re trying to get out of me or get me to do. There’s a saying, here on Earth. When you dance with the devil, the devil doesn’t change, the devil changes you.”

Loki’s voice was deceptively calm. “And which one of us, do you suppose, is this devil you speak of?”

“So that’s it?” Steve sat up and turned in the chair, dropping his legs over the side. His feet sunk into the still-warm sand. “You’re trying to turn me to the dark side. Well, you can give up now, it won’t work.”

“And you would claim a different motive?” Loki moved to face him, mirroring his pose. “You are here because you wish to save me, to reclaim my lost soul. We are not so different, Captain, are we?”

“Do you want to be saved?”

“I have no need to be saved,” Loki sneered. “Therein lies the arrogance of your kind. That you are right. That there is absolute right at all.”

“And the people you’ve hurt, the people you’ve killed. Innocent people, innocent lives,” Steve countered, his face beginning to warm as his temper rose. “What’s your excuse for that? That they were all so unimportant that they don’t matter? You don’t regret anything you’ve done, do you?”

“You are a soldier; you know the meaning of collateral damage. Did that ever stop you in your war against the Red Skull?” Loki leaned forward, half of his face lit by moonlight and his eyes glittering in the darkness. “Mortal lives are of no consequence. They begin and end in a moment. A blink, a flash of light, and then darkness.”

“Right, right. We’re insects. We’re beneath you. I’ve seen the footage. I heard what you told Tony and what you said right before Hulk turned you into an Asgardian rag doll.”

Steve barely had time to register that he’d crossed a line before Loki was moving. He hauled Steve bodily from the chair, gripping fistfuls of his shirt. Buttons popped as the shirt gave. Steve twisted to land on his back, gripping Loki’s arms and using their momentum to roll, shoving Loki away as he did. As he climbed to his feet, Loki tackled him again and they hit the sand in a tangle of limbs, rolling until the sand hardened and cold, foamy water rolled up around them.

Gasping and choking, Steve dodged an elbow and caught his arm through Loki’s. He used the leverage to roll Loki into the path of the next wave just as the water broke and crashed down over them. Digging in, he found his footing and forcibly dragged Loki from the sucking grip of the water. He stopped once he reached dry sand and let Loki collapse, coughing up water.

“Pepper is going to kill me when she sees that this shirt is ruined,” he said crossly. His head was definitely spinning and he couldn’t shake it off. Had he hit something in the tussle? Maybe a rock. He sat down heavily, adrenaline fading and leaving him muddled. “If you hate us all so much, just leave. Go somewhere else. Piss off some other Realm.”

Loki pushed himself up onto his knees, wiping his hand against his lips. “I told you. I have nowhere to go,” he snarled bitterly.

“Then figure out how to _be here_. How to live here and get along with us insects.”

“And how do I do that, Captain?” 

The sharpness of his arrogance bit into Steve, but there was a hint of something else, something that sounded almost like desperation. How was Steve supposed to answer that question? He couldn’t give Loki advice about a world he barely understood. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths and tried to find his balance again.

“I don’t know,” he said finally.

“If I were to do as you say,” Loki continued, his voice harsh and sharp. “What if I decided that getting along means taking these innocent lives that you are so fond of? What then?”

“Then we’ll stop you. I’ll stop you.” He rubbed at his forehead. That wasn’t what he wanted. There were already so many enemies they were fighting, that SHIELD was fighting. More every day, it seemed. He’d allowed himself the hope that, if Loki wasn’t exactly an ally, at least he wasn’t actively trying to kill anyone either. It struck him as strange as he thought about it. “But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“You presume to know my mind,” Loki scoffed.

“You haven’t attacked anyone in months. You said yourself, the firework snake was mostly harmless. It was just a diversion to kidnap me. You went to Colorado to get a Christmas tree. That’s not exactly menacing.”

“I wished to understand,” he cut off abruptly, as though he’d thought better of continuing the sentence. Instead, he moved so that he was sitting in the sand a little less than two feet away from Steve. He waved his hands in a gesture that was becoming familiar and two bottles appeared between them. Foregoing a glass, Loki grasped the neck of one of them and raised it to his lips.

“That’s a mature solution to your problems,” Steve said wryly.

Loki swallowed and lowered the bottle. “This solves nothing; it merely makes your insanity bearable.”

“My insanity?” Steve stared at him for a moment and then reached for the second bottle. He swallowed down several mouthfuls before setting it aside again. “Too bad it won’t help me deal with yours.”

“You are irritating, arrogant, foolish, and sentimental,” Loki said, but there was no anger behind the words.

Steve shook his head before taking another drink. “You, on the other hand, are insane, cruel, violent, and the most annoying person I know. You’re worse than Tony and I didn’t think anyone could be worse than Tony.” The words were rolling off his tongue far too easily, some of them blurring together. He held up the bottle and squinted at it. “What kind of champagne is this?”

“It’s not champagne.”

Steve stared with horror, finally recognizing the tingling sensation in his limbs and the fuzziness in his head. “What is it?” 

“The Vanir make excellent wine,” Loki answered as though that made everything clear.

“You got me drunk?” Steve asked incredulously. Strangely, he found that he wasn’t mad about it, couldn’t be mad about it. Magic, he thought, it had to be magic. “Great. I’m soaking wet on an island somewhere and I’m drunk. And I’m with you. You think I’m an insect.”

“Do you not hate me as well?” Loki asked.

“I don’t hate anyone,” Steve answered automatically, then thought about it. “Except Red Skull. But he’s dead so he doesn’t count.” He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. Natasha and Clint were going to kill him when he got back. They’d be in line right behind Pepper, especially since there was no way he was going to be able to find all the lost buttons in the sand. There was going to be a lot of I-Told-You-So waiting when he finally got back to the Tower.

“I shall have to try harder then,” Loki said calmly. He raised his bottle; moonlight caught the line of his throat as he swallowed.

Steve figured he was already drunk and it wasn’t likely he’d be able to get drunk again; he certainly wasn’t going to accept unidentified beverages from Asgardians ever again. But he was drunk now and figured he might as well enjoy it. Tipping his own bottle against his lips, he drank down what he guessed was about half of the bottle before setting it aside. The sand was turning cool; he burrowed his toes into it and swept his feet from side to side to draw out a pattern. He had the strange desire to build a sandcastle. His face and neck felt hot and he was glad that the shirt had been torn open so his chest was bared to the cool breeze.

A new thought occurred to him and he physically turned to look at Loki. “You’re drunk too, aren’t you?”

Loki responded by draining the rest of his bottle and tossing it onto the sand behind them. “It is possible.”

“At least it’s fair.” His head was spinning; the logical option seemed to be to lie down. “I was wondering. I mean, that night in my bedroom. What was that?” The words fell apart as he tried to put them together.

“I think you have had enough, Captain.” Loki reached for the second bottle.

“Oh no, you don’t. I haven’t been able to drink and feel it in more than seventy years.” Steve’s hand closed around the bottle and Loki’s hand. He froze. Heat spread up his arm and his fingers felt like he’d taken hold of a hot pan.

“You are drunk. I do believe that constitutes diminished capacity in your mortal legal system.”

Steve didn’t let go of the bottle. Of course, Loki would think like a lawyer. He felt hot and reckless and something he didn’t even have a word for. “And what is it on Asgard?”

“Perhaps this was not a good idea after all.”

“You don’t get to do that.” Steve pulled the bottle from Loki’s hand and set it in the sand behind them. He caught Loki’s forearm against the sand, forcing him to lean in closer. “You kissed me. Tell me why.”

“Why?” Loki sounded surprised and amused.

“Did you think that would scare me off?”

“Scare you off,” Loki repeated.

“Didn’t work. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You have definitely had enough.”

“Now you feel bad?” Steve forced himself to sit up; his head swam. “Killing innocent people is fine, but getting me drunk is too much?” He caught Loki’s arm when he tried to pull away and held on tightly. He didn’t care if his grip was too tight. 

“That isn’t--”

Steve reached out and dug his fingers into Loki’s hair. There was a point he was trying to make, but it fell apart when he realized how close Loki was. Instead, he tightened his grip on the back of Loki’s neck and pushed him down into the sand. He didn’t know how to kiss; he’d only kissed three people in his whole life. He decided not to care and pressed his lips against Loki’s anyway. 

He was pretty sure that he was doing everything wrong.

Loki’s teeth caught at his lower lip, biting down just enough to hurt. Long fingers slid beneath the ruined shirt, up along his spine, and dug into his shoulders. It wasn’t so different from fighting, he thought, his mind hazy with alcohol and something else. Loki’s thigh was pressing against his hip and it was so easy to shift to the side, just enough, so that his legs parted and the thin fabric of the dress slacks slid against Loki’s thigh. Heat and tension coiled in his lower back; he pushed Loki down harder into the sand. Loki broke the kiss first; his teeth sunk into skin at the base of Steve’s neck. 

Steve panted for breath, head spinning and dizzying heat spreading through his veins. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never…I mean, I’ve never…with anyone.”

“Is that so, Captain?” Loki said, his voice a dark purr against Steve’s throat. 

Steve sucked in air and buried his face against Loki’s neck. He gripped whatever felt solid; Loki’s back, Loki’s shoulders, just Loki. He wanted, he wanted; he didn’t know what he wanted. “Was this your big plan? Get me drunk and,” he lost his words again when Loki’s hands settled on his hips, pulling him down and along his body at the same time. The sound that came out of his throat couldn’t be called a word by any stretch of the imagination.

“I believe the word you use here on Midgard is fuck,” Loki whispered against his ear. “And yes, I intend to fuck you, Captain.”

Two things happened at once; Steve felt his hips jerk involuntarily as Loki’s hand slid between them, fingers tugging at the zipper of his slacks, and he decided that _fuck_ was entirely the wrong word. He didn’t want _fuck_ ; he’d never wanted that. He wanted more than that; he wanted to be more than that to someone. Someone like Peggy; someone who was strong and bright and good. Loki was nothing like Peggy; Loki was sharp edges and darkness and razor blades in the form of words. He dug his hands into Loki’s hair and kissed him, hard. Hard enough that teeth scraped rough over skin and he tasted blood on his tongue. His tongue was in Loki’s mouth, he realized hazily, and he was rocking, grinding against Loki’s hand like there was nothing else in the world except the friction and the heat between them.

He didn’t want this, but his body screamed for it; every inch of his skin burned for it. Images crashed drunkenly through his mind, showing him what he’d never wanted to imagine and everything tangled together into heat and pleasure.

“Loki.” He choked on air, shuddering, when Loki’s teeth dug into his shoulder. “Stop. Please, stop.”

“I can feel how badly you want it, Captain,” Loki panted against his throat.

Steve groaned, driving Loki deeper into the sand as he bucked against him. He didn’t deny it; he was painfully hard and embarrassingly close to proving just how inexperienced he was. Against his hip, he could feel the length of hardened muscle beneath Loki’s khaki shorts and – it would be so easy, so very easy – he grimaced and pushed that thought away. Gritting his teeth, he caught Loki’s wrist and tugged his hand away. He rolled to the side, gasping for air and fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

“I could make you,” Loki said, his voice hard and shaking with cold fury. “I could make you kneel before me and plead for release that only I can give you.”

“You probably could,” Steve breathed out, his heart still pounding and his head still spinning. “But it wouldn’t get you what you really want.”

“You would presume to know what I want.”

It was unbelievable and impossible and Steve couldn’t quite wrap his head around the concept that Loki wanted _him_. “It wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t resist, would it? That’s what you want. Conquest. You want to win.”

“You are a naïve fool,” Loki spat viciously.

Steve struggled to his feet and stopped to grab the neck of the second bottle. He had every intention of finishing it. “I’ll do you a favor.”

Loki laughed, bitter and hard. “What favor could possibly be of value to me?”

“I’m going to tell you how to win.” He tipped the bottle up and drained it; he was breathless by the time he finished. “Because it doesn’t matter how drunk you get me, doesn’t matter if you force me. Either way, you’ll lose.”

Loki stood slowly, facing him. His hair was a wild tumble of sand laden curls, as black as the night itself. “Please continue. It is highly amusing.”

Steve tossed the bottle away and closed the gap between them. He caught the back of Loki’s neck with one hand and pulled him hard against his body with the other. His lips brushed against skin; his breathing heavy. “When every last brick of every building you destroyed is restored. When you apologize to every single family who lost someone they loved because of you.” He bit at the curve of Loki’s jaw, then placed gentle kisses at each spot his teeth had marked. “When you do all of that, I’ll let you fuck me. And then, I’ll fuck you. Until you’re shaking in my arms, until all you can do is scream my name as you--”

Loki stopped him with a hard, angry kiss. A low growl resonated in his throat and his hands clamped down on Steve’s arms hard enough to bruise.

The world spun out from beneath his feet and the only thing that was real was Loki. Just Loki; his skin, his lips, his hair. He stumbled when Loki pulled away and light stung his eyes. Holding up an arm to block the brightness, he blinked until the room came into focus. Loki’s lips, swollen and just slightly bloodied, turned up into a wicked smile and then he was gone.

Tony’s voice was too loud in the silence. “Someone tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“Sorry, Cap. I should’ve seen this coming.” Natasha came into focus a few feet away. 

Tony was still staring. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Loki with his tongue down our dear Captain’s throat. Did you see that? In my penthouse. My penthouse. JARVIS, permanently delete that footage. Wait, did you catch Loki on video that time?” 

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS answered.

Steve swayed on his feet and tried to steady himself. “It’s not, I mean, I wasn’t--”

Tony choked on his scotch. “Are you drunk?” 

“Very,” Steve answered honestly. “I thought it was just champagne but it was…something else…and there was a beach and, um, Loki was there.”

“And now you’re half naked. Are those bite marks?” Tony caught Steve’s arm, trying to hold him upright. “I am feeling such an odd mix of pride and horror right now. As far as going for bad boys, Cap, this is the extra mile.”

Steve decided it was as good a time as any to stumble toward the couch with Tony’s help. The adrenaline rush was fading fast and the last thing he wanted to do was argue with Tony about something he didn’t understand himself. He was falling into darkness before he hit the cushions.

**

To the rest of New York City, the building was one tremor away from coming crashing down onto the streets. It was cordoned off, sealed up, and city officials had done what they could to keep people safely away from it until the demolition began. It would take years, decades maybe, for New York to rebuild from the ruins. Work had already begun on the surrounding buildings, but this one, it seemed, had been forgotten and remained shattered.

No one walking on the sidewalk noticed a man pass through the barriers as though they weren’t even there. He was tall, with black hair and dressed in a black, wool coat that fell past his knees. A black walking cane with silver accents struck against the ground as he walked, but it made no sound. He disappeared into darkened hollow of the ruined building. His steps were soundless as he made his way through the wreckage, up the single staircase that had remained intact, and through a simple grey door with no markings.

Inside, the sounds of the city fell away completely. There were layers upon layers of spellwork woven around the cocoon he’d fashioned as a home. No one could find him.

Loki shrugged his coat off and draped it over the back of the leather couch, his mind lost in thought. The cane slid into a wire umbrella stand, rolling slightly as it settled into place. He moved restlessly; he took a beer from the fridge and a paper box of Chinese takeout from a restaurant that never asked questions. The microwave door shutting was loud in the silence and whirred as it heated up the container. He waited, fingers tapping on the beer bottle. When the food was finished cooking, he took a fork from one of the drawers and returned to the couch. 

The television sprung to life without a remote control, filling the apartment with light and sound. He ate without tasting, pausing occasionally to examine one of the ingredients on the fork. The beer had warmed too quickly and turned bitter; he drank it down without noticing. Everything tasted of ashes since he’d come here.

The movie did not catch his attention; it was a senseless parade of faces and voices. He stared blankly at the screen after he’d finished the food in the container. Beside the television, the Christmas tree glittered with white, miniature stars. He waved a couple fingers and the illusion of presents appeared beneath the tree, each of them wrapped in brightly covered paper and tied up with bows. His amusement was only momentary and he tossed away the illusion as easily as he’d conjured it. No matter how pretty he made them, they were still only empty boxes.

He’d tried filling them once, but couldn’t figure out the logic of what should go inside. Christmas was just as irrational as the mortals who’d created it.

Now empty, the takeout container was gone in an instant, reappearing in a dumpster down the street. He left the couch to get another beer from the fridge and stood at the expanse of glass that made up the far kitchen wall. Steve hadn’t noticed that the view outside wasn’t quite New York City.

Loki scowled at the illusion. He had attempted to have the glass reflect the vision of New York City that he wanted, but it was ever changeable and frequently not at all what he’d had in mind. It was currently dark, except for patches where fires raged out of control; a burned out, blackened, and desolate New York City. It was Midgard itself, he believed, that interfered with his magic. Some of the simplest tasks were now difficult and what had been difficult on Asgard was sometimes as easily accomplished as breathing. Even the time he’d unleashed a swarm of wyrms on the city, it had been an accident; he’d been attempting a different conjuring altogether. The energy of this world was a far cry from Asgard’s and it seemed almost chaotic in nature. It was no wonder the mortals were so strange and irrational.

How was he supposed to rebuild the city if he could not even control a window?

He shook the thought away and returned to the couch with his beer, glowering and taking joy in nothing. Viciously, he wished the city was the nightmarish image he saw in the glass so that he could wash his hands of it all. It wouldn’t matter if he rebuilt it all from ash; he would still be a monster.

With a nod, the television began to flip through the channels, staying only long enough for him to decide that the content on the screen was boring. Captain America’s face filled the screen; his blue eyes were bright and his expression serious as he considered the reporter in front of him. He always tried so earnestly to answer their inane questions. It was painfully obvious to anyone paying attention that, no matter how hard he tried, the good Captain did not belong in this world. Soon enough, the reporter latched onto Stark’s Iron Man, who never failed to entertain.

Apparently they had thwarted a plot by HYDRA agents to poison the water supply.

Loki considered that for a moment. It was a clumsy and imprecise plan, but he’d come to expect no better from HYDRA. Even Midgard’s villains were chaotic and irrational. 

It would be simple enough to rebuild the city with magic. Somehow he knew that would not count. He’d watched enough of the news footage to know that, again and again, Steve stayed behind to haul away whatever rubble remained from yet another fight that spread through the streets. It didn’t seem to matter if he was filthy, exhausted, and beat up; he’d pick up a broom and work into the night to clear away debris. The others were content to return to whatever else filled their lives, but not the Captain. 

The physical act of cleaning was important to Steve.

Loki didn’t understand why it was important. Captain America was much like Christmas; puzzling, fascinating, and impossible. 

There was little enough point in speculating how to repair the city. No doubt, the humans would carry on with their slow efforts to restore their home. He could speed up the process and he could track down everyone who had claim for vengeance against him, both were certainly within his abilities to do. Neither challenge appealed to him, though they would be simple enough to accomplish. His grip tightened on the bottle of beer in his hand. Why was he even considering bending to the demands of a mortal?

Memories of lying on the narrow bluff in California crept into his mind; memories of hearing only the ocean and knowing only that the sun was rising and setting above him. The effort to cloak himself from the Captain even for those few minutes had nearly killed him. Once they had left, he’d lain there for days; his only food and water what the Captain had left behind. He’d faded in and out of consciousness until his body had restored itself enough that he could remain fully awake; at first, only an hour at a time. Days more and he’d been able to find a cave further up the shore where he wasn’t exposed to the sun and the screeching sea birds; he remembered lying in tidal pools and feeling the salt water sting at the healing wounds all over his body.

Much of it had blurred together into broken days and nights of simply trying to stay alive. And all that time, he could not push that face or that voice from his mind; Captain America, the soldier. The man who had pulled him from the ocean and kept him alive – wanted to help him – when there was little else to stop death from claiming him. He’d asked himself the same question over and over again as he hid and healed and waited. 

Why?

It had spread through his mind like a cancer until he couldn’t stay away from New York. Just once, he’d told himself, just to repay the debt he owed. He’d come to New York and destroyed one of Doom’s childish toys. The Captain had said his name, eyes wide with surprise and what had looked like relief. The next time, Captain America had smiled. That image burrowed into his mind until he couldn’t - still couldn’t - dig it out.

The cuff links had been a whim; nothing more. Trinkets. He’d attended Stark’s charity gala merely to see if the Captain was wearing them.

Loki turned the television off with a wave of his hand. It had become a sickness that ate away at his mind, just as Doom’s obsession with Sue Storm was a sickness. He loathed it as much as he craved what he felt when Steve was there, although he had yet to put a name to the feeling. It felt as though he was standing under the brightest summer sun after spending a lifetime trapped in a dark winter. He’d found excuse after excuse to stay in New York and then to seek out the Captain in Canada, unwittingly cracking open the secret of the Winter Soldier. 

James Barnes.

There had been no reason to care who or what the Winter Soldier was before, but Loki found himself burning with curiosity now. Who was James Barnes and why was he so special to the Captain? No doubt the Captain would be eager to forgive his long lost friend all the wrongs he had done while in the service of his masters. His fingers tightened, his temper rising up with a jealous, possessive edge. 

He needed no one’s forgiveness.

Restless, he stood and returned to the window, half daring it to show him another nightmarish landscape of New York City. Instead, it showed him Asgard; it showed him Thor standing at the edge of the Bifrost with Heimdall at his side.

Loki turned away before he smashed the glass in a fit of rage.

He returned to the living room and curled himself into the armchair. He watched the lights dance on the Christmas tree until the rage passed and then he waved a hand toward the television once again. 

It began to play a movie about creatures called hobbits.

**

Mike Ross had worked construction since he was old enough to hold a hammer. He’d started at the bottom and kept going, plodding like a heavy set plow horse through hoops and hurdles until he carved out a niche for himself doing restore and repair for old, turn of the century buildings. He knew the ins and outs of the system, kept his house in order, and was always happy to see good men go on to do better things. His arms were half full with rolled up drawings and he had carpenter pencils stuck near everywhere he could hold them; the pockets of his heavy work overalls, behind his ears, one between his teeth, and more in his hands. He dumped the drawings onto the work table so his foreman for this job could spread them out and pulled the pencil out of his mouth.

“That the new guy?” 

The foreman, Henry Laws, looked up for a second and then nodded. “Tall, black hair, ponytail. That’s him.”

“Looks a bit…” Mike trailed off, unsure how to vocalize that the New Guy looked like a grasshopper. He was all legs.

“He’s stronger than he looks. Fast learner, too.” Henry squinted at the drawing, marking off changes as he reviewed them. “Man’s got ice water in his veins. Walks out on the I-beams like he was strolling through the park.”

“Reckless?” Mike asked. He’d known too many men who didn’t know their own limits and ended up in trouble or in the hospital for it.

“Nope.” Henry looked up again, his dark eyes were lined with deep crow’s feet. “Hard to pin him down though. He takes chances, sure, but not like he’s doing it for kicks. Keeps to himself; thought at first he might be running from something, but his background check came back clear. Not so much as a speeding ticket.”

Mike chewed on that idea carefully. It wasn’t uncommon for the men who worked on his crews to come from lives that were all kinds of wreckage. He didn’t believe in risking the job for a man, but he wasn’t going to turn away a man’s good work because of few mistakes. 

“Tell you one more thing,” Henry continued without looking up from the drawings. “Since I hired him, accidents around here have near stopped happening. I haven’t had to fill out one of those damn work comp forms in months. Thought at first it was just a coincidence, but either he’s got eyes in the back of his head or he can be in a dozen places at once.”

“Sounds like a godsend. Projects like this never get through without men getting hurt. Few less accidents and we might even make schedule.” Mike unrolled the second drawing. Electrical. That one was going to take a lot of work to get it right.

“Maybe.” Henry didn’t sound convinced. “Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something off about him. Maybe not in a bad way,” he stopped and looked up, frowning. “He’s too smart to be working this job, Mike. Talks like he’s got an education, when he says anything at all, and not one of those second rate community colleges neither. Man like that isn’t breaking up concrete without a reason to be getting all dirty. Whatever’s driving him can’t be good.”

“You worried about the job or the man?” Mike couldn’t help but grin. Henry was a good man; he had three sons of his own and he got the same look about him when he was fretting over them.

Henry shook his head and sighed. “Just the ramblings of an old man who’s been doing this too long.”

“Well, if he’s a lucky rabbit’s foot, I could sure use him. Can’t get anything to go right with some of these jobs.” He made a mental note to look at his staffing plan and see if there was wiggle room to move people around. They weren’t trying to rebuild the entire city of New York, but there were days when it sure felt like they were. And Henry was supposed to be retiring soon; once he was gone, Mike would be even more stretched to cover the work.

He spent the next two hours hammering out details with Henry and trying to get the logistics worked out. Debris and waste needed hauling, forms needed pouring, lumber and conduit needed ordering; the list was never ending. He left Henry to do the rounds and check on the progress across the site; he knew a lot of the men by name and had even met their families. It was a long time since he’d known every man who worked for him and more than a few of the men were only part of the family as long as it took them to get their feet under them again, then they were off to better places. Tearing down a building could be more treacherous than building one from scratch; they had to hollow it out before they could bring in the heavy equipment and knock it down. He stopped to watch the new guy. 

It didn’t take him long to understand what Henry had meant.

The new guy never missed a precaution; he never forgot the safety rigging, never took off his hard hat, and didn’t miss a beat when it came to securing ties and cables. But there was something very casual about the way he swung out over the catwalk, completely unperturbed by the empty space below and the precarious footing. He appeared completely focused on the job at hand and, while not oblivious to the danger, not concerned about it either. Mike was even more surprised when one of the men on the upper level shouted something in his native tongue, Ukrainian, rather than the usual broken English, and the new guy shouted back in Ukrainian. After a few minutes, he glanced over his shoulder as though he could feel Mike’s gaze on his back.

His curiosity piqued, Mike waited until they’d finished installing the catwalks and scaffolding that would allow them to reach the next floor up to begin cutting out the old piping system. It was near quitting time anyway. 

Mike intercepted the new guy, smiling and holding out his hand. “Mike Ross.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the man took his hand. “Logan Keyes.”

“Henry says you’re doing good work here, son.”

Again, hesitation. “Thank you.”

Mike caught wariness in the man’s eyes, but it was the wariness of a feral cat tensed for an attack rather than the wariness of a man waiting to be caught for something he’d done. He had an accent of some kind, though Mike couldn’t be sure what it was. British maybe; certainly not what he usually heard on his sites. “Where’d you learn Ukrainian?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed just slightly and he glanced toward Andriy. “I’ve picked up a few words here and there.” His answer sounded carefully crafted and cautiously evasive. Mike had a sense that it took a lot to get more than a careful answer out of the man.

Mike persisted. “Liking the work?”

Tipping his head to the side, Logan studied him for a moment and then seemed to come to a sort of conclusion. “I did not think I would, but I have been surprised.”

That was the strangest answer Mike had ever gotten to that question, but it seemed an honest one. “Henry said you’re a quick learner. You didn’t have much experience, but that don’t matter too much on a job this big. Need all the hands I can get. Why choose this?” He motioned to the gutted building around them. Another long moment of silence. Mike got the impression there was more than he could even comprehend was going on inside the man’s head.

Logan glanced up, his eyes possibly seeing more than Mike could see in the empty spaces. “I wish to see the city rebuilt. Restore every brick that was destroyed that day.”

It was the way he said _that day_ that struck Mike and he thought he understood. Logan Keyes wasn’t running from anything. He was here because he’d lost something, maybe everything, the day the aliens attacked New York City. Mike nodded somberly. He took a chance and placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Lot of men I know lost someone they loved that day, even some of the men here on this site. Family, friends. If you don’t mind me asking, who did you lose?”

Logan took a deep breath, his lips tightening into a tense line. “My brother. My mother. My father.”

Mike swallowed against the lump in his throat; the man had lost his whole family that day. He motioned to the building around him and smiled. “Welcome to the team, Logan. Glad to have you.”

Months later, when the ruins of the building were gone and the new construction began, Mike Ross learned that Logan Keyes could read blueprints and design drawings. More than that, he could study them and then remember every dash and line, as though he could picture the building coming together around him in perfect detail. He was meticulous and thorough; he knew the building codes in nearly as much detail as Mike did. He still kept to himself, but Mike caught the subtle signs that the other men had grown to respect him. 

When it came time for Henry to retire, it was his idea to ask Logan to replace him.

“Speaks near every language on earth, as far as I can tell,” Henry said as an afterthought. “That alone will get him further than I ever could. It’s like he just hears the words and they stick in his head. Might not be the friendliest, but he’ll do right by the project.” Henry clapped his hand on Mike’s back and took a deep breath, preparing to walk off the site one last time. “Won’t find another like him. Though I’ll be damned if I know whether that’s a good or a bad thing.”

Mike couldn’t help but agree.

**

The first name on the list led Loki to an apartment in Queens. When he told the woman who opened the door that he’d come to apologize for the death of her brother, she told him to go to Hell and slammed the door in his face.

The second name led him to a small house outside the city. The man who lived there thought he was a journalist and threatened to shoot him.

He approached the house where the third name led him with reproach. The fence was falling apart and the front yard was littered with children’s toys. With peeling paint and a roof that probably leaked, the house itself was in no better shape. He took a deep breath and started up the broken walk. The porch looked unlikely to hold his weight. He’d barely set foot on the cracked, half-rotten wood when the door burst open and four feet of screaming tantrum barreled out the door.

“I hate you! I hate you!” the child screamed over his shoulder. He saw Loki but did little more than race around him and into the yard. 

“Justin!” A woman came to the door. She had much younger child in her arms and dark circles under her eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry you had to see that. Can I help you?”

Loki opened his mouth but was suddenly unsure what to say. “If I interrupted something...”

“No,” she sighed. “He’s just upset. He’ll come back in when he gets hungry.”

She was watching him expectantly. He looked at the black leather book he’d used to record the names of everyone who had died during the attack on New York and felt uneasy. Finally, he raked his fingers through his hair and squared his shoulders. “Did you know a Jared Brenner?”

Her eyes grew brighter and she nodded. “He was my husband. He died during the, um, well…you know.”

“I,” Loki began; his throat felt like it was closing off. “I am sorry. I am sorry for your loss.”

She frowned, obviously puzzled. “Did you know Jared? I don’t remember ever seeing you before.”

“He was a friend,” he lied. The urge to turn and run was beginning to crawl up his legs. “I was in the area and wanted to offer my condolences.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and it eased some of the weariness in her eyes. “It’s been hard with him gone. Just me and the kids and I lost my job last month. Justin’s been a handful since his dad died and I can’t afford to send him to counseling,” she stopped and visibly steeled herself. “I’m sorry. I’ve been alone with a three year old and a ten year old for too long.”

“Three years old,” he repeated.

“I was pregnant when Jared was killed.” She turned to the little girl in her arms and pressed a kiss against her dark brown curls. “This is Sophie. Can you say hi, Sophie?” The little girl turned her face away and buried it against her mother’s neck.

“Hello, Sophie,” he said and hoped the words didn’t come out as strangled as they felt. “I am…my name is Logan.”

She seemed to sense his discomfort and smiled. “Thank you for stopping by, Logan. It was good to meet you.”

He nodded and gave in to the urge to turn and hurry away. When he reached the end of the street, and only then, he stopped to open up the black book. His fingers shook slightly as he drew a line through the name _Jared Brenner_.

One thousand eight hundred and fifty four to go. 

It was pointless; utterly, completely pointless. What was the reason for the Captain to demand him to do this? His words weren’t what the woman and her children needed and he’d done them no good by knocking on their door. Rebuilding the city made a certain amount of sense; it was putting things right in a very real, physical way. Brenner’s widow obviously needed help with her children and repair work on her home. All his apologies and words couldn’t give her what she needed; no amount of words could put anything right.

And what of the ones who had no family or friends to claim them? There were over a hundred of those names. They had been buried near a prison where they would be forgotten. Some had never been given a name; there were fifteen John Does on his list.

Irritably, he opened the book again and tapped his finger against the next address. At this rate it would take him nearly two mortal years to make his way through the list, slightly less if he ignored those who hadn’t been claimed by anyone. Perhaps the Captain would allow him that much. He bristled at the thought. No, he would not ask for allowances. The requirement was for every single name on the list and he would see it through. He would show the Captain how pointless, how futile, an exercise it had been. 

Every brick and every name; it would change nothing.

**

The weather turned and summer vanished into the colors and rain of autumn. By the time Steve returned to New York with Clint and Natasha, he was bone tired and discouraged. This time, Poland; it had been their last chance to catch the Winter Soldier’s trail before he disappeared for what could be decades. Now, all they could do was wait for the Winter Soldier to be reactivated again. Steve wanted nothing more than a shower and to curl up with a book.

Tony insisted on going out for a group dinner so he only got the shower.

He pulled on a jacket against the evening chill and headed out with the others. It wasn’t far to the restaurant Tony had picked so they walked.

“Can’t believe how fast this one’s gone up.” Natasha stared up at one of the reconstruction projects that had been ongoing since the attack. “Didn’t think we were gone that long.”

Steve nodded, only absently glancing at the building. It looked ready to be sealed off for the winter while the work continued inside. Even at this hour, work lights blazed within as the crews hurried to finish the outer walls before winter set in. They’d done a good job at replicating the old stonework and style of the building. Still, so much history and legacy had been lost in the heart of the city. Some of the buildings that had been destroyed had been there even before he was born and seeing them in ruins only made him feel that much more of an outsider.

“Earth to Captain America,” Natasha prodded. “You okay, Steve?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered. He’d learned that Natasha only called him Steve when she was worried. “Just tired. I was hoping to find Bucky this time, that’s all.”

“We’ll find him.”

“I know.” He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and stared at the ground. He didn’t want to tell her that he felt like the entire year had left him questioning everything he was and everything he thought he knew. Between Bucky and what had happened with Loki, he was pretty sure he didn’t know who he was anymore. He wished he could forget Loki completely.

No one had seen Loki since New Year’s; he’d vanished off of the face of the Earth. Steve hadn’t erased the phone number from his phone, but he hadn’t tried calling it either. It was for the best; he knew it was. Tony still hadn’t given up on his wild theory and made Bruce promise to smash Loki to pieces if he did show his face in New York again. Weary, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to push away some of the tension.

“I’m sure he’ll show up again,” Natasha said quietly.

“Sure, when whoever’s controlling him wants him to kill someone else.”

“That wasn’t who I meant.”

Steve frowned and then shook his head. “You scare me sometimes, Natasha. How do you do that?”

“You only rub your neck like that when you’re thinking about Loki.”

He almost protested, but figured she was probably right. For most of Natasha’s life, just staying alive had depended on reading the people around her. “So, how often?”

“All the time.”

He sighed. “Really?”

She linked her arm around his. “You did come home with some pretty impressive bite marks. That had to be a memorable night for you.” 

“I feel like I failed.” He tried to smile but couldn’t manage more than half a smile. “Failed the team, failed my friends.”

“And him?” she asked, her tone light.

“I don’t know. Maybe I had a chance to get through to him, make a difference. Maybe I failed Loki too.” The name stuck on his tongue like cotton candy.

He didn’t know what to think about Loki, didn’t know how to feel. There were days that he didn’t think of him at all and days when he thought of little else. He had nightmares of Loki attacking and destroying the city, and then other dreams of Loki that left him drenched with sweat and shivering under the coldest shower he could stand. Natasha had tried to talk to him about it, tried to tell him that it was okay that he’d let his guard down; that he still woke in the middle of the night aching for the feel of strong fingers and teeth against his skin. He listened to her, half horrified that she could talk about sex like it was just another weapon and half hoping that Loki had simply meant to use him.

If it had only been one of Loki’s games, he could pretend that none of it had mattered. That he hadn’t wanted it, didn’t still want it.

The rest of the evening, he was content to let the others carry the conversation and let the words wash over him. It felt good, it felt comfortable. This was his family now; these were the people who mattered.

He told himself that he didn’t look at every man with dark hair who walked by.

**

It was the damned, enchanted glass. For weeks, it had shown him only that house.

Loki cursed the chaotic energies that messed with his magic even as he stalked up the sidewalk toward the house. He’d been there a month before and it looked in no better shape than it had then. The treacherously decaying porch was piled with boxes. He took a deep breath and rapped his knuckles against the front door. Inside, a young child screamed and he heard the weary mother trying to soothe her. He cringed.

“Logan!” Anna Brenner said as she opened the door. Her light brown hair was pulled back with a bandana and the circles under her eyes had nearly doubted. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry it’s…well, it’s a little crazy around here.”

She’d remembered his name. Not his real name, but the false name he’d taken to walk in this world. His irritation fizzled and went out like a dowsed flame. 

“I’ve come to offer you a job,” he said too quickly and too loudly. 

She stared at him. “What?”

“I need an assistant.” He felt his cheeks burn with an unpleasant feeling emotion. “I’m working three of the reconstruction sites right now and I can barely manage all of the building permits by myself.”

“I’m…I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“I’m rebuilding what was destroyed in the attack.” The words felt strange on his lips, strange but true. “And I’m not going to stop until every last brick is restored. I’ve got three buildings that I’m working on and another nine starting after the New Year. I thought we might help each other.” He stopped when she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him as though he was a lifeline. There were tracks of tears on her cheeks when she pulled away.

“I don’t know what to say.” She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes.

“Say yes.” He tried to smile.

She pressed her hand against her lips, closing her eyes tightly even as more tears spilled out. “You must be some sort of angel.”

Loki felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. “I’m just a man.”

“The bank is going to take the house on Monday. We don’t have anywhere to go. And Social Services is threatening to take Sophie and Justin away,” she stopped and wiped away more tears.

“That won’t happen,” he told her fiercely. He hadn’t meant to, the words just came out. “I promise you I won’t let that happen. I give you my word, I will make this right.” In that instant, he was more certain of that promise than anything in his entire existence; he would make it right. The house, the porch, the broken fence, all of it; he would make it right.

She was laughing and crying at the same time. “When do I start?”

**

Tony convinced them all to spend Christmas in Los Angeles with him and Pepper.

Steve was glad to escape the cold of New York City. 

By the time they arrived, Tony had already managed to explode one Christmas tree – Steve didn’t ask how - and his army of lab robots were decorating the second tree under JARVIS’ strict supervision. Pepper had a glass of wine in her hand when she met them at the door and the look on her face said she’d earned it. It was all noise and chaos as they settled in to Tony’s Malibu mansion. Steve found himself drawn to the wide expanse of windows overlooking the ocean. It turned out that Clint could play a little piano and Natasha was verging on virtuoso. The two of them plus a pitcher of eggnog was enough entertainment to keep them laughing well into Christmas Eve. 

“Tony, Tony!” Pepper called through the noise. She was holding one of Tony’s portable tablet displays and dragging her fingers across the surface. “Here. This is what I was talking about.”

“Hey, guys! Avengers!” Tony bellowed, nearly sloshing his eggnog onto the tablet. “Check this out. This is really cool. Some guy is building us a monument.”

Pepper gently took the glass of eggnog from his hand. “It’s a monument to the victims of the Chitauri attack, Tony. The Avengers are just part of it.” She waited until the chaos had faded before she held the tablet up for them all to see. “It’s going to be part of the reconstruction of one of the old tenement buildings. They’re saying there will be statues of each of you and the names of everyone who died that day will be inscribed on a wall behind them. Like the Vietnam Memorial in Washington.”

“New player in town.” Tony squinted at the display. “So far he hasn’t accepted any of my invitations.”

“The architect’s name,” Pepper said patiently. “Is Logan Keyes. Just because he doesn’t want to come to your parties doesn’t mean he’s suspicious, Tony. He’s very reclusive, but considered one of the up and coming architects of this century. He’s been part of every reconstruction project in the city. They’re even calling him a genius.”

Tony looked offended. “Everyone loves my parties. Who doesn’t love my parties?”

“We need people like this, Tony. People who love New York and believe that it can recover from anything.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Natasha peered over Pepper’s shoulder. “No pictures of the guy.”

“He likes his privacy.” Pepper glanced over at Tony. “His assistant handles all his press. Her name is Anna Brenner. She lost her husband in the attack. Here.” 

Natasha took the tablet from Pepper’s hands. A smile appeared on her lips as she read. “It’s like a fairytale.”

“Read it,” Steve requested. He took a seat on the couch and took a sip of his eggnog. They could all use a good fairytale.

“Anna Brenner met Mr. Keyes one September night when he knocked on her door. The former friend of her husband, Jared Brenner, sought her out to offer condolences. At the time, Mrs. Brenner had also lost her job and was struggling to take care of her two young children.” Natasha paused and cleared her throat before continuing. “Only days before she was to lose her home and possibly her family, Mr. Keyes offered her the job as his assistant. A month later, she says, he showed up on a Saturday morning with volunteers from the reconstruction crew to repair and repaint her home.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “That’s amazing. He sounds like a good guy.”

Rolling his eyes, Clint headed for the bar and more eggnog. “They’d better get my nose right for the damn statue!”

Tony pulled a face at him. “You’re worried about your nose?”

“At least you won’t be big and green.” It was one of the few sentences Bruce had spoken that night. He was drinking chamomile tea instead of eggnog.

Natasha handed Bruce the tablet. “It doesn’t go into any detail about us. SHIELD probably made them redact anything that might have identified our civilian identities.” She raised an eyebrow at Tony. “Those of us who still have civilian identities.”

Bruce began to read through the news article. “If he’s rebuilding the city, that’s a good thing. People need hope. They need to believe everything will be okay again. That’s probably worth a statue, even if it is a statue of the Other Guy.” 

“Tired of seeing ruined buildings out your window?” Tony asked as he settled down onto the couch beside Pepper.

“Just not sure how much of it is because of me,” Bruce answered carefully.

Steve finished his eggnog and glanced at the clock. “Well, this old man is going to bed,” he announced as he stood up.

“Aw, Cap!” Clint protested.

“I’m over ninety years old. Can’t keep up with you youngsters.” Steve winked. He left his glass at the bar and headed down the hallway to his assigned guest room.

His clothes were still in a suitcase. He took the time to unpack and place everything neatly into the dresser beside then bed. Rubbing at the tension in his neck and shoulders, he turned the water in the shower as hot as it would go and stripped off his shirt and jeans. He scrubbed at his skin until it was red and stinging under the steaming water. Even as he got out of the shower and toweled off, it was hard to keep his mind clear. 

It was Christmas. The one person he wanted to see wasn’t going to be there. He needed to face the fact that whatever he thought he’d had with Loki, it was over. He wasn’t coming back.

JARVIS turned off the lights and Steve climbed into the king size bed. Trust Tony to have king beds in all of his guest rooms. The sheets were cool and smooth over his skin; it made it harder instead of easier to relax. He tried not to think about Loki.

He spent a lot of time trying not to think about Loki.

“Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said, his volume low. “You have a visitor.”

Steve sat up, reaching for the bedside lamp. He half expected to hear Tony demanding that he rejoin the group. Loki was standing at the foot of the bed, his black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. He wore a white tank top and dark jeans. He looked exhausted.

Narrow lips curled into a smile. “Miss me?”

“Loki,” Steve said without thinking. He tensed, waiting for JARVIS to say something.

“Stark’s electronic imitation of Heimdall knows that I’m here,” Loki said dismissively. “I have not come to harm you or your friends. No doubt it will alert the others and bring them running. I have but a few moments.”

“JARVIS, wait. There’s no need to tell anyone. Not yet. Please.” Steve felt foolish and his face heated when Loki’s smile widened. 

“Are you certain, sir?” JARVIS asked.

“I’m fine. They’re having a good time and I’m not in any danger. There’s no need to ruin Christmas Eve for them.” Steve dragged his fingers through his damp hair, unable to think of anything else to say. There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but all of them fell apart on his tongue. “Loki,” he ended up repeating.

“Captain,” Loki said with a faint smile.

He was far too conscious that he was completely naked and covered only by the sheet and blankets on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Perhaps I merely came to wish you a Merry Christmas.” With a bitter laugh, Loki shook his head. “Should you feel threatened, you need only to alert the creature in the walls.”

Steve looked away, remembering the last time Loki had wished him a Merry Christmas. That had been the beginning of it all. “I haven’t changed my mind if…if that’s what you want. My answer hasn't changed.”

“I expected nothing less.” There was no animosity in Loki’s voice. He sounded tired more than anything.

Steve swallowed and slowly eased back against the headboard, carefully keeping himself covered. He nodded to the foot of the bed and waited for Loki to take a seat. The mattress shifted with his weight. “You sound tired,” he said awkwardly.

“I am,” Loki answered without elaboration.

“Are you alright?” 

Silence.

He swallowed, hard. “Why are you here?”

“I wasn’t aware that I needed a reason to wish to share your bed.” Loki’s voice was nearly a purr. 

His cheeks flushed hot and he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, then realized what he was doing and laughed. “I haven’t seen you in awhile. At work, I mean. Well, you know what I mean.”

“I haven’t attacked or threatened to destroy your world in some time, you are quite right.” Loki leaned to his side, propped up on one elbow with his long legs hanging off the side of the bed. He took in the room thoughtfully. “I have been busy with other projects. Nothing that would involve your Avengers or your SHIELD. At least, not yet.”

“Not yet?” Steve repeated. He felt his heart sink; he’d hoped that Loki’s absence was a sign that he’d turned away from violence and destruction.

“I grow bored easily. No doubt I will tire of these projects soon enough and wish to do something else.” He wasn’t looking at Steve and there was something in his voice that didn’t quite ring true. The words were clear and his tone of voice was effortlessly smooth, but only as though they had been polished and rehearsed a little too much. 

“Why don’t you lie down? We could watch a movie or something.” He didn’t actually know if there was a television in the guest room, but this was Tony Stark’s house, so he figured the odds were good. “JARVIS?”

As though on command, a panel in the wall directly across from the bed slid away to reveal a flat panel television screen. “I have a variety of holiday films available, sir.”

“Great. That would be great.” Steve tensed, hands tight on the blankets at his waist as Loki moved to lie down beside him on the bed. “We don’t have to watch a Christmas movie if you don’t want to.”

Loki considered that for a moment. “I have finished your series of movies about the hobbits. Strange creatures.”

“You watched the Lord of the Rings?” Steve had watched them with Clint and Natasha while they killed time in a small Polish town, waiting for the Winter Soldier to show himself again.

“And your Harry Potter as well. Your kind expends a great deal of your resources on movies. It is an inefficient form of entertainment.”

“It’s a way to imagine different worlds, different possibilities. There aren’t exactly real hobbits or wizards.”

Loki turned to him, eyes half closed. “I suppose it is because you have not left your planet and discovered the Nine Realms or their inhabitants.”

“Are there hobbits?”

Loki laughed. “No. But the dark elves are remarkably Orc-like.” He settled more comfortably onto the bed, tugging one of the pillows until he got it where he wanted it. 

“So you don’t have movies on Asgard then?”

Loki raised one hand in a wide sweeping gesture and the room transformed around them into a perfect image of the Shire. When Steve looked hard, he could see that the room was still there, as though the Shire had been cast over it in a perfect three dimensional display. He could smell the grass and the damp earth and the scent of a flower he couldn’t identify.

“Tony would love this,” he said, awed.

Loki snapped his fingers and the illusion was gone. “In many ways, mortals are quite limited.”

“Can everyone do that? On Asgard, I mean.” He saw hesitation and uncertainty on Loki’s face, his brow furrowing for a moment. 

“No,” Loki said guardedly.

Steve could hear layers of meaning in that single word. Every word would be like that with Loki, he thought. Every word an iceberg, with far more lurking beneath the surface than the simple meaning of syllables strung together. He had the feeling that, although Loki’s skill may have been unique, it may not have been as impressive to Asgard as it was to Steve.

“JARVIS,” he changed the subject. “Do you have The Wizard of Oz?”

“Of course, sir.”

He glanced down at Loki. “If that’s alright?” 

Loki shrugged. It was a strikingly human gesture that Steve didn’t think he’d seen Loki make before. He caught at the flare of hope and tried to keep it from showing on his face. Maybe he hadn’t failed after all.

“I will not bite you unless you wish me to,” Loki said as the opening credits began to roll.

Steve didn’t understand at first, unable to think of anything but the last time Loki had bitten him; he’d ended up half naked in the penthouse of the Tower looking like he’d just come from a party that would’ve put even Tony Stark to shame. His face burned as he eased down onto his back, carefully keeping the covers over his body. He caught the look on Loki’s face and the fire in his cheeks flared hotter. If Loki hadn’t realized he was naked before, he’d just figured it out.

He hadn’t managed to find a comfortable position by the time Dorothy started down the yellow brick road. Turning to his right side put him directly against Loki and his left turned him away from the television screen.

“This would be more enjoyable if you relaxed,” Loki said wryly.

“Sorry, I just--” 

“Would it help if we were both naked?” The smile on Loki’s face was definitely a smirk.

“I’ve just never done this before.” He motioned vaguely at the both of them. It was frustrating; he didn’t know where he was supposed to put his hands or arms and he felt as awkward as before the serum.

“It isn’t complicated.” Loki shifted – it seemed effortless – and the length of his body was pressed against Steve’s side. 

Long fingers combed through Steve’s hair, pressing into the knot of nerves at the base of his skull and making his mind fuzzy; he thought vaguely that Loki had very long legs and very strong hands. He kept his eyes focused on the television screen, despite being unable to understand what he was seeing or hearing. Loki caught his right hand, weaving their fingers together, and lifted it to press his lips against Steve’s knuckles. The muscles in his arms and shoulders seemed more sharply defined than they’d been before, as though he’d done months of hard labor. 

“You’re missing the movie,” Steve said hoarsely.

“Am I?” Loki nuzzled against his throat. “I do believe a bucket of water is the sorceress’s undoing.”

“Why’d you agree to a movie you’d already seen?” 

“Perhaps I did not intend to pay attention.”

Steve felt as though the room had suddenly gotten hotter and there was a pleasant tension building in his lower back. Loki’s breath against his skin was not helping. Teeth scraped over his collarbone and he realized that he’d tipped his head away without even realizing it, allowing Loki clear access to his throat. He wanted to remind Loki that JARVIS could see them; that he’d insisted on JARVIS being able to detect Loki. Now, he couldn’t remember why he’d been so adamant about that. Loki’s fingers were working at the back of his neck and it felt deliriously good. 

He decided he didn’t care that JARVIS could see them. He rolled to his side and dug his hand into Loki’s ponytail, pulling him up to kiss him hard on the lips. Loki pressed into him in response; his teeth caught at Steve’s lower lip and scraped against his tongue. He pulled away only when he need to gasp for breath. 

“I see,” Loki whispered against his ear. His hand slipped down Steve’s chest and underneath the covers. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

He caught Loki’s wrist, but not before Loki had felt exactly how badly he wanted. It was impossible to think with how much he wanted. He wanted everything he’d seen in his dreams, everything that had left him sweat soaked, heart pounding, with Loki’s name on the tip of his tongue. “Not yet,” he said with effort. 

Loki nipped at his earlobe. “Yes, your conditions. Impossible, unreasonable conditions.” 

Steve tried to sort out the shattered thoughts inside his head. “Did you come here to test me?” He felt Loki tense and realized he’d said the wrong thing. “Wait, wait.”

“Is there more you wish to demand of me?” Loki asked tersely.

“No,” Steve said quietly and realized that he meant it. “I’m not asking for anything. Not tonight. It’s Christmas.” 

From the silence, he knew that Loki didn’t understand. He didn’t really understand either. Instead of trying to explain, he pulled Loki into his arms. There wasn’t anything else that he knew how to do, despite how vivid some of his dreams had been. He pressed one hand against Loki’s lower back and pushed his left leg between Loki’s thighs, rolling his hips and biting back the groan at the friction between their bodies. He felt Loki jerk with surprise against him.

“You’ve grown bold,” Loki breathed.

“I’ve had time to think.” Steve bent his head to drag his lips against Loki’s throat. Encouraged by the response he was getting, he tugged at the button and zipper of Loki’s jeans with one hand and fumbled them undone. Loki’s skin was silken against the back of his fingers and he had to remind himself to breathe.

Loki moaned. “And is this what you want for Christmas, Captain?”

Steve shifted his weight so that he could pull the fabric clear of Loki’s hips and thighs. His stomach felt as though it was full of butterflies as he caught the head of Loki’s cock between his lips and then slid his mouth down along the shaft. Loki bucked up against him; his fingers digging into Steve’s hair. He took that as a positive and continued. After a few moments, he found a rhythm, licking and sucking, holding Loki’s hips down with both hands. He didn’t think, couldn’t think, about anything that wasn’t the salt on his tongue and the saliva slick skin against his lips. Breathing steady, he focused on taking more of Loki into his mouth; slower, deeper and letting his tongue catch against every groove and line. Loki’s hands fisted in his hair, his back arching and words in half a dozen languages tumbling from his lips. He felt the tension build until Loki was taut as a cable beneath him. Hot liquid spurted against the back of his throat and he swallowed instinctively; Loki bucked once more and cried out. Steve pulled away slowly, wiping the back of his hand against his lips.

“Are you certain that you don’t need assistance, sir?” JARVIS asked.

Steve ignored Loki’s breathless laughter beneath him. “I’m certain. Thank you, JARVIS.” He turned to look at Loki and almost wished he hadn’t. His heart thudded in his chest at the sight of black hair spread wild over the pillow and his face flushed red, green eyes bright. Loki looked dazed and content, almost happy.

“No doubt the cavalry will be arriving soon.” Loki pulled the jeans smoothly up over his hips and sat up. He caught the back of Steve’s neck and kissed him. 

“Merry Christmas,” Steve said against his lips.

“Was that a gift, Captain?” Loki’s fingers slid through Steve’s hair, fingernails scraping just slightly against his scalp.

“A promise,” Steve answered. Once again, he thought that Loki looked exhausted and spread too thin. He wanted to ask, wanted to know what was going on and why. There was no reason to believe that Loki would tell him the truth. Not yet. Instead of asking, he pressed a kiss against Loki’s lips and hoped it said more than any of his words could convey. He felt Loki smile and then he was gone. Steve nearly sprawled forward once there was nothing pressing back against him.

“Sir?” JARVIS asked.

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “How much of that did everyone else see?” He had to assume that JARVIS had at least notified Tony of Loki’s presence and that he’d probably been on candid camera for everyone in the house to see.

There was a pause. “None of it, sir. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark now?”

Steve almost laughed with relief. ”I’ll tell him in the morning.”

“Very well, sir.”

**

Steve overslept. 

When JARVIS finally managed to rouse him, it was with some urgency. Steve stumbled out of bed and into whatever clothes he could get his hands on. Halfway down the hall, he could hear shouting and the sound of breaking glass. He broke into a run.

The Christmas tree ornaments had come to life.

“Cap!” Clint shouted. “Down!”

Steve dove to the side an instant before an arrow thudded into the wall behind him and skewed a tinsel haired angel armed with a plastic icicle. He stared at the chaos around him with disbelief. Pepper had taken refuge under the grand piano. Clint fired arrow after arrow; Natasha followed each of them and collected the ornaments, shoving them into a heavy garbage bag. Glass bulbs flew like projectiles off of the tree branches and burst into fireworks.

“TONY!” Pepper screamed after an ornament shattered against the piano.

“I didn’t do this! Pepper, I swear on my life--” Tony was cut short. A plastic drummer boy ornament had leapt from its hiding place and latched onto the back of his t-shirt.

“Loki! Knock it off!” Steve shouted from behind the sofa, trying to sound angry and trying not to laugh at the same time. Instantly, all of the ornaments went still and silent. Letters written in green fire appeared in mid air in front of the enormous Christmas tree. _Merry Christmas, Avengers_. He didn’t know if he imagined the faint sound of laughter in the air.

“That bastard.” Tony wrenched the drummer boy from his shirt and shook it violently. “JARVIS! I thought you said you could see our favorite Asgardian pain in the ass.”

“I can, sir.” There was a pause. “Loki was on the premises for thirty four minutes last night.”

“What? Last night? What the hell was he doing here?”

“My privacy protocols prevent me from disclosing his activities, sir.” JARVIS sounded almost apologetic.

Tony scowled. “Privacy protocols? The only reason those would kick in were if…” he trailed off and turned slowly toward Steve. “You didn’t. In my guest bedroom. In my guest bed.”

Steve’s face burned. He rubbed at the back of his neck and headed for the kitchen, unable to look anyone in the eye. “Anyone else need coffee?”

“Oh my God. You DID.”


	5. Christmas the Fourth

Everything was wrong.

Exactly when or how the world had started crashing in around him, Loki didn’t know. He was being buried alive under the weight of the human lives around him and he didn’t know how to stop it. He wanted to leave Midgard, disappear into a Realm that wasn’t mad from the dust to the sky, and shake off the sickness that had started to consume him. There was no name for it, but he felt it gnawing at him all the same; he felt it curling, oil-slick, in the pit of his stomach every time he picked up his black book and sought out another name.

He’d seen wives who had lost husbands, husbands who had lost wives, children who lost a parent, parents who’d lost a child, and more variations than he’d thought possible. Humans were a tangle of interconnections; the concept of family was fluid and changeable and, often, had little to do with blood.

Some, perhaps even many of them, had moved on and found new happiness since that day. Others had not. He’d started making notes in the margins beside the names, catching snippets of the lives he’d seen glimpses into. For good or ill, he marked down names of children, of pets, notes of cherished memories. Beside Mrs. Grace Mortimer’s name, he’d written down that she had worn blue flowers in her hair on their wedding day, a detail that Mr. Mortimer hadn’t forgotten in more than forty years. 

Grace had been in a taxi on the street below when the Chitauri arrived.

He gritted his teeth and shoved the book into the inner pocket of his coat. The rowhouse in front of him was small but well cared for; there were neatly wrapped flower boxes waiting for spring to return. 

The buzz of the doorbell was muffled. He waited. 

A woman opened the door. Her hair was gray, with locks of dark brown still scattered throughout, and despite her age, her eyes were sharp. “May I help you?”

“Margaret Carter?” Loki asked.

“One and the same.”

This part never got easier and the lies he was forced to tell, over and over, had begun to stick in his throat. “I won’t take much of your time. I wished to offer my condolences over the death of your niece, Sharon. I am very sorry for your loss.”

Margaret watched him carefully for a moment, as though trying to decide whether or not he was insane. Finally, she opened the door wider and nodded. “You look tired and half-frozen. I’ll put a pot of tea on.”

Loki braced himself as he stepped through the door into the modest home. In most cases, the ones who wished to talk about the loved one lost were the most difficult. The sick feeling in his stomach began to slither up his throat and spine as he followed her into a small kitchen. He stood awkwardly until she directed him to take one of the chairs at the small table. As he looked around, he noticed that the home appeared to be caught in a temporal rift of some kind; everything seemed to have come from the era of Captain America’s favorite movies.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” Margaret said as she set the kettle on the stove and lit the burner. Her tone was light but not casual. He had the impression that she was not to be underestimated.

“Logan Keyes.”

“I see.” She took two sets of teacups with saucers from one of the cupboards and set them aside. They were pale white, almost translucent, with a delicate floral pattern faded into the porcelain. Matching cream and sugar dishes settled onto the table along with a tea box.

Loki touched the sugar dish lightly. “These are lovely. They appear quite old.”

“They were my grandmother’s before they were mine,” Margaret explained. They were silent as the water heated and the kettle began to whistle. Her hands were steady as she poured water into the teacups and carried them over to the table. She sat down across from him and motioned for him to help himself. “I know who you are.”

He froze; a paper tea package in his fingers. She was not armed that he could see, but that meant little enough in any of the Realms.

“You’re the architect planning the memorial to the victims of the Chitauri attack,” she continued.

He swallowed, not daring to speak. Carefully, he opened the package and set the tea bag into the water. That she had known, and used, the name of the creatures made him even more wary of her.

“I might be able to help you with your project.” She gave him a small, careful smile.

His confusion must have showed on his face because she told him to wait and left him sitting in the kitchen. He nearly abandoned the foolish plan entirely in that moment, half expecting her to return with a weapon. Instead, she was carrying a large, heavy book when she returned. She placed it carefully on the table and opened it.

A sepia picture of Captain America stared up at him. 

“I knew him when he was just Steve Rogers, a guy from Brooklyn.” She settled into her seat and picked up her tea. The look in her eyes was soft and far away. “Before he became what he is now.”

“You knew him,” Loki repeated. His fingers shook as he began to slowly turn the pages.

“He used to carry a picture of me with him, kept it in his compass. Said it would show him the way home.” She smiled at the memory. “I was the last person to speak to him before he disappeared.”

Loki took in a deep breath. He was beginning to understand. Margaret Carter and Steve Rogers had been more than acquaintances before the Captain had disappeared into the ice. The sick feeling in his stomach redoubled. He knew the circumstances of the Captain’s disappearance and it was far too easy to imagine that final conversation.

“He promised me a dance, that next Saturday. The last thing I told him was not to be late.” She set her teacup aside and visibly shook free of the past. “There are quite a few pictures of him if it would help you in your work. The newspaper mentioned that sculptures were planned and I don’t see him agreeing to pose for you.”

“No, probably not.” His fingers stilled over a picture of a Steve Rogers who was nothing like he knew. He pulled it gently from the sleeve.

“That was Steve before the serum,” she explained. “Even before, he was a good man. A good heart. That’s why we chose him, because what made him…what makes him…a great man has nothing to do with the serum. It never did.”

Loki placed the picture back carefully and pulled away from the photo album. There was nothing in it that he wished to see. “You were in love.”

“I never gave up hope that he would return, someday.” Her smile was sad. “I should have known it would be when the world needed him most, not when I needed him.”

“And you never.” He glanced around, searching for any sign that anyone else shared the home. “You never found another?”

“Never found the right dance partner.” She reached out to touch one of the photos lovingly. “I’ve had a good life. I served my country and loved my family. I couldn’t have asked for more.” If there was wistfulness in her voice, it was not regret or disappointment.

“And your niece?” He hoped to redirect the conversation to anything other than Steve.

“Followed in my footsteps,” she answered in the same light, wary tone as before. It was the hallmark of a lifetime spent not quite telling the whole truth about what she did every day. “She joined the government. Some department with an impossibly long name.”

He had a guess. Of course, SHIELD would have had to account for the deaths on the helicarrier and at the research facility somehow. There was no easier way than to bury the names within the list of the civilians who had died in New York. In the chaos, no one would have taken a second look. Lies would have been accepted and the families would have mourned along with everyone else. The book inside his coat seemed to grow heavier. 

“Are you visiting all of the victims’ next of kin, Mr. Keyes, or am I special?”

“All of them,” he said truthfully. His throat felt as dry as desert sand. He picked up his tea and sipped; the water was still hot enough to burn.

“That is a terrible weight to bear. To see so much heartache.”

“I have been able to do some good,” he said. As he said the words, he realized they were true. He had been able to help some of those who were left behind. It was so very little compared to the damage he’d done, but it wasn’t insignificant.

She nodded. “I read about your assistant, Anna. You are good man, Mr. Keyes.” The sad smile returned and her gaze fell to the photo album once again. “This world needs good men.”

“Thank you for your offer, Ms. Carter.” He nodded to the photo album.

“Peggy. You can call me Peggy.”

“Peggy.” He forced his lips to smile. “It’s very generous. I wish I could accept, but I couldn’t take this from you.”

“They’re just photographs, Mr. Keyes. I have my memories.”

“A compromise then? Would you be willing to review the design before it is commissioned? I would do justice to the man Captain America is. You would tell me if the design was unfaithful.” The idea seemed to please her and she agreed quickly. They drank tea as she flipped through the album, pointing out names and faces.

“Here’s Steve and Bucky.” She pointed to a picture and laughed. “Those two were inseparable. They grew up together. As close as any brothers.”

Loki studied the picture carefully, noting James Barnes’ face and dark hair and the obvious familiarity between the two men. It was visible even in a decades old photograph. Much had changed since the day the picture had been taken. She caught his gaze and pulled the picture from the book, holding it out to him.

“Take this one at least. Please. Perhaps you’ll have a chance to give it to Steve.”

“Would you not wish to give it to him yourself?”

She shook her head slightly. “He has a new life and a new world ahead of him now. I’m not a part of that. This is the past.”

Loki accepted the photograph gingerly, afraid of damaging it. “Thank you. This means more to me than I can tell you.”

“You’ve made an old woman’s day by letting me ramble on about my glory days.” Her eyes sparkled and he could see why Steve had loved her. 

He stayed another hour and another cup of tea, listening as Peggy told him stories of her youth and the War. Other than Bucky, the past wasn’t something that he’d ever heard Steve talk about; the Captain didn’t even speak of the War in the many interviews he was subjected to. As Peggy recounted her tales, he found that he was able to pick out similarities and differences in the Steve before the ice and the Steve of now. After he said farewell, he tucked the photograph into the black book and returned to the bitter cold of the New York winter.

His heart felt heavy with ice inside his chest. The name and false skin that he wore as Logan Keyes felt wrong. Of all the lies he’d ever told, the lie of Logan Keyes was proving to be the most dangerous of them all. He was everything that Loki was not and lines were beginning to blur in a way that felt as though he was being torn apart. 

He’d come too far to turn back.

Shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets, he turned down streets without paying attention, seeking only to bury himself in the biting cold. It could not harm him; ice was nothing to a Frost Giant. He walked to try to ease the sick feeling in his stomach, thinking perhaps that he might outrun it momentarily. When he finally did return to the place he called home, he dreaded what the wall of enchanted glass would show him. He avoided looking at it as much as possible now, recognizing that there was a pattern to what it showed him that he was afraid to understand. 

He thought of Christmas Eve.

California had been an impulse. He’d convinced himself to abandon these futile tasks when he’d decided to go. Managing the construction sites took far more work than he expected; he’d barely slept in weeks as finalizing plans and drawings for the remaining buildings took priority over everything else. His own building would be the most difficult to accomplish and the most important. In that moment, he’d wanted to give it all up. He’d wanted nothing more than to never face another wife, husband, father, mother, or child, who had lost someone because of him. It had seemed better to give up, to turn his back on all of it and walk away. He’d gone to California to tell Steve that what he’d asked for couldn’t be done; it had been ridiculous folly to even try.

But Steve’s hair had been damp and tousled; his eyes wide with surprise. More than surprised, he’d looked pleased. So Loki hadn’t said anything. He shivered at the memory of Steve’s lips against his skin. 

Steve had meant to be kind. It was ironic that kindness could feel so very cruel.

Peggy Carter was the love and the life that had been taken away from the Captain by Fate. Now that he’d seen her, it was clear that he could never hope to take her place. Whatever it was between him and Steve – and there was something between them that threatened to consume him – it would never be enough. That left him twelve buildings with their bricks scattered to the four winds, a list with nine hundred and fifteen names remaining, and the choking sickness that refused to go away.

The effort might possibly kill him and even if he managed to accomplish the impossible--

He cut that thought short and shook it away. When he’d taken the scepter, he thought he’d known how everything would play out and how it would end. But he couldn’t have seen this insanity coming. 

Turning abruptly for home, he ruthlessly forced his mind to remain empty. He focused on the wind, on the cold, and the sounds around him; anything that wasn’t the muffled screaming inside his head. Soon, they would begin tearing into the abandoned building he’d made his own and the details of reconstruction would take all of his attention. He craved the silence that he found when he buried himself in the work, when all that mattered was concrete and steel and putting the pieces back together. 

Perhaps Thor found the same thoughtless solace in the midst of battle, when all that mattered was defeating the enemy.

He stumbled on the steps. It had been a very long time since he had thought about Thor at all, let alone wondered about what he might be thinking. He thought of the picture of Steve and Bucky, and Peggy saying they’d been as close as any brothers. That was why Steve searched the ends of the earth for his friend and why he would never give up until he found him.

Why hadn’t Thor come? Come to capture him or to take him home or anything at all.

Loki pushed too hard and the door slammed behind him with a force that shook every picture and print hanging on the walls. He felt sick and feverish and wild, as though he would fly apart any moment from the chaos inside. Stalking angrily toward the enchanted glass, he silently dared it to do its worst.

It showed him Asgard. It showed him Thor laboring to rebuild the Bifrost.

He tore himself away from the image with an anguished howl. Whether the glass showed him lies or taunted him with the hopes of what could never be, he didn’t know. It never showed him what he wanted to see. He yanked a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer and stormed into the bathroom. His past was gone, just as surely and completely as Steve’s. Fate was no less cruel in bringing him here than it had been to reveal that he was a Frost Giant, a cuckoo in the nest.

Loki of Asgard – _Jotunheim_ \- had no place in this Realm; he was nothing more than a monster.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, he savagely cut at it with the scissors. Locks of heavy, black hair fell over his shoulders and down onto the floor of the bathroom. He only half saw his reflection in mirror, eyes wide and skin too pale. There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones were too sharp. More hair fell away. He was breathing hard when it was done and his hair was gone. The reflection in the mirror seemed to sneer at him, lips curving up into a defiant smile. What did hair matter? He would still be just a monster, playing at being a man.

He put his fist through the face in the mirror.

**

The invitations were simple; white linen paper, black ink. Formal dress required; there would be dancing.

“Really?” Tony asked as he turned his over. “No gold leaf? This is the event of the year. The, capital T, and this is what Keyes sends out? Obviously, I need to have a conversation with the man.”

They’d all gotten invitations to the unveiling ceremony of the monument to the victims of the Chitauri attack. It would be an enormous art piece that took up the entire front quarter of the old tenement building. The rest of the destroyed buildings had been restored to their previous, historical beauty, but Monument Tower – unofficially christened by the Press – was a modern architectural wonder that stood out against the city back drop. It was glistening metal and glass, but without the hard angles of modern skyscrapers. Instead, the building was made of wide columns tapering into a single spire reaching to the sky. Windows had been set to appear to seamlessly blend together, as though the whole building had been blown from glass.

“At least Stark Tower isn’t the ugliest building in New York anymore,” Clint commented. He hadn’t bothered to open his invitation.

“I like it. It reminds me of the World Fair in ’43.” Steve laid his invitation down; it was addressed to Captain Steven Rogers. He opened up the newspaper to get a better look at the full page image of the new building. The monument was housed inside the building rather than outside, with the rest of the space taken up by offices. It was rumored that companies were already scrambling to obtain space in the building. Whatever Logan Keyes had spent on the building, they were estimating that he’d make it back tenfold.

“You’re the only one here old enough to remember that one, Cap.”

“It’ll be just like every other one of these parties. Too many reporters and an uncomfortable suit.” Steve turned the page and continued reading the article about the unveiling.

“Says the man who wears a skintight uniform. Think your boyfriend will show up?” Tony asked mildly.

“He’s not--” Steve stopped and took a deep breath. The response had become automatic. 

He hadn’t seen Loki in almost a year, again, and he was beginning to get anxious. Next time, he was going to demand texts, phone calls, even postcards, at least once a month so he knew Loki was still alive. SHIELD didn’t care why Loki was off the radar as long as it kept him from hurting anyone. Deep down, Steve knew something was wrong. He’d known when Loki had appeared the previous Christmas and he’d seen how tired he looked. He kicked himself for not asking and for not trying to keep Loki there that night. At least then Steve would’ve known that he’d gotten a night’s sleep, since it looked like he’d forgotten what sleep even was. Now, with Christmas less than a month away, he was starting to jump at every shadow, hoping one of them was Loki.

Tony had already moved on. “Maybe we should go as the Avengers. I’ll break the Mark VI out of storage; Cap can put on the spandex. Well, maybe Bruce should just go as Bruce. The building was only finished last week.”

“It’s amazing,” Steve commented absently, still reading the article. He read a sentence aloud, “In the two years since Logan Keyes got involved, all twelve of the remaining buildings destroyed or damaged in the attack have been completed, all of them ahead of schedule. Some finished years earlier than expected.”

Tony moved to Steve’s side to read over his shoulder. “He probably hasn’t slept in two years, I can tell you that much. Putting up Stark Tower just about drove me insane. Without Pepper, I’m pretty sure I would’ve lost it. But this is what I mean. This man is my kind of crazy. So why won’t he return my phone calls?”

“Probably your kind of arrogant too.” Clint finally pulled a knife from his boot and set to opening his invitation. Along with the heavy white paper, a smaller piece of paper fluttered down onto the table. He frowned as he picked it up. “Hey. Look at this.” He held it out for them to see. The note was the same brilliant white linen paper, about the size of a business card, but the words were obviously hand written in dark blue ink. 

_Weapons are not allowed; however, an exception will be made for you and you alone. LK_

“Why did you get a personalized note?” Tony demanded.

“Why is he telling you to come armed?” Steve reached out to take the card. “That’s what this means, right?”

“Probably a publicity stunt.” Clint shrugged. “Maybe they’ll ask me to shoot an apple off someone’s head or something.”

“If he takes his bow, I’m taking the suit.”

Clint leaned back in his chair and grinned. “No, you’re not. They won’t let you through the door in your suit. Exception is just for me.” He nodded toward the card in Steve’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Guess you’ve got a fanboy, Barton.”

“’Bout time someone recognized how awesome I am. Someone who won’t even return your phone calls. Take that, Stark.”

Steve chuckled and tossed the card back to Clint. “Are you two done pulling each other’s pigtails? You do realize this means you need a suit, Clint.”

That made Clint pause. “How am I supposed to shoot anything in a suit?”

“Oh, I am definitely going now. Just to see that.” Tony clapped his hand on Clint’s shoulder as he headed out of the room. “How about a nice lavender? You look like a lavender.”

“Stark! Wait. Seriously, I don’t even know where to buy a suit. Are there stores for that?”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve offered. The look of panic on Clint’s face receded. “We’ve got three weeks. That’s plenty of time to find you a suit.”

Clint put it off until the afternoon of the unveiling and he couldn’t evade Steve any longer.

It turned out that Clint actually did look good in lavender but no one was going to tell Tony he’d been right. He ended up with a dark grey suit and slacks with a pale lavender dress shirt and a darker, maroon tie. None of the men’s dress shoes were comfortable enough; he declared halfway through trying them on that he was wearing his boots or nothing and Steve let it go. 

“What do you think Loki’s up to when he’s not showing up in your bedroom to…do whatever,” Clint asked as they walked. He sounded casual, which was usually when he was at his most dangerous.

“I wish I knew,” Steve answered honestly. “Last time, he looked exhausted. Wouldn’t tell me anything though.”

“More of a physical kinda guy then.”

“If there’s something you need to say, you can say it.”

Clint stopped to stare at a holiday window display. “What convinced you to give him a chance? And I don’t mean sex. I mean a chance to walk away still breathing.”

Memories of the night Loki had texted him and demanded that Steve explain Christmas returned, faded and sweetened by time. That had been the moment it started, he thought. He stood beside Clint and thought about his answer. “He asked me to tell him about Christmas. He even got a Christmas tree. I helped him decorate it. He didn’t do it because he believed in Christmas; he did it because he was trying to understand. To understand us, Clint. Understand what it means to be human.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“For me? Yeah. Is it enough for you? I can’t be the judge of that. I didn’t go through what you did.” Steve sighed heavily. “Asgard plays by different rules than we do. They see life differently, see violence differently. When I found Loki in California, he was cut to ribbons. It looked like he’d been whipped within an inch of his life.” He shifted uneasily, the knowledge still turned his stomach. “His own father ordered that done to him. Thor had to have been there. Did he try to stop them? Or is that just what they do to people on Asgard? I can’t understand that anymore than Loki understands Christmas.”

“Don’t suppose it would do any good to remind you how many people are dead because of him?”

Steve winced. “It doesn’t change my choices, no.”

Unexpectedly, Clint turned and smiled. “That’s why you’re Captain America.”

“What does that even mean? Everyone says that like I’m supposed to understand.”

“Come on, Cap. I’m craving sugar. Natasha’s on a health food kick, again, and she threw out all my cookies. Evil, I tell you; evil, evil woman.” Clint started down the street, talking amiably about whatever came to his mind.

They made their way back to the tower eventually, just in time to eat dinner with the rest of the group and get ready for the reception. Natasha was a knock-out in a skin-hugging, beaded white dress that set off her pale skin and red hair. Even Bruce managed to look presentable in a rumpled suit coat that gave him the look of an absent-minded college professor. At Pepper’s insistence, Steve had forgone the usual dusty gray for a sleeker, silvery grey, but he kept the blue shirt and tie and the shield cuff links. Once dressed, they ended up in the living area, all vaguely uncomfortable except for Tony, who thrived on this kind of thing.

Pepper frowned when she saw the bow and quiver in Clint’s hands. “You aren’t really going to bring those, are you?”

Clint flashed the notecard with Logan Keyes’ writing on it. “Gotta be a reason they’re letting me in the door with it.”

“Never hurts to bring Robin Hood to the party.” Tony grinned. “Right then. Let’s go meet our statues.”

“He’s going to be impossible now that there’s a statue of him,” Pepper whispered to Natasha a little too loudly to not be overheard.

“He wasn’t before?”

Steve fell into step, bringing up the rear of the group. He let the easy chatter wash over him and didn’t think too much about where they were headed. This night wasn’t about him or the Avengers, it was about the hope and future of New York City and about those who’d lost their lives in the crossfire. They piled into a limousine and Tony was handing out glasses of champagne before the tires had even started rolling. Steve took a sip and wished it was Vanir wine instead.

He still didn’t know how to dance.

They arrived in good spirits and were escorted inside. Under the spotlights, the Keyes building looked like a blazing beacon in the darkness. Even Tony was speechless as they stepped into the lobby. It stretched upward several floors, all glass and steel. In the center, heavy cloth was still draped over what must be the monument to the victims of the attack. It filled the space, rising nearly three stories high and stretching almost wall to wall. The rest of the space was filled with benches and plants, even fully grown trees decorated with white Christmas lights. In the summer, no doubt it would look as though transformed into a garden. Along the sides were grand archways leading into the building; the pathways were marked with signs and ribbons for the arriving guests.

“Wow,” Natasha breathed. “I thought it would be smaller.”

“And you guys think I’m over the top,” Tony added.

A slender woman with dark hair pulled into a bun approached them, smiling hesitantly. “Welcome. I’m not sure what to call you. Do you go by the Avengers? I’m afraid I don’t know all of your names.”

Tony stepped forward and held out his hand. “Tony Stark. This is Pepper Potts, my, well, my everything. Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Dr. Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, and the guy with the bow and arrows is Clint Barton.”

“Anna Brenner. I’m Mr. Keyes personal assistant.” She shook Tony’s hand and seemed to relax. “And Mr. Barton, everyone has been instructed to allow you the bow and arrows, but if you have any trouble at all, please come see me.”

“About that--” Clint began.

Tony interrupted him. “When do we meet Mr. Keyes?”

Anna continued to smile. “If you’ll all follow me into the ballroom. The formal ceremony isn’t for another hour and Mr. Keyes won’t be joining us until after the unveiling.”

“He doesn’t want to be here himself?” Tony asked.

“He’s a very private person,” Anna answered carefully. “But he has been looking forward to having you all here. This memorial has been his life for the past nine months; he has lived and breathed this project.”

Pepper moved forward, giving Tony a sideways look. “Mrs. Brenner. I read about how you met Mr. Keyes in the paper. I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Miss Potts.” She waved them through the archway. “And you don’t need to worry. Mr. Keyes warned me about Mr. Stark. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” Her smile was still fixed in place but there was steel in her voice, along with a trace of amusement.

“Thank God.” Pepper laughed at Tony’s hurt expression. “I’ve already had to send five gift baskets this week to apologize for you Tony, one of them including an all expenses paid trip to Aspen.”

“Mr. Keyes isn’t always the easiest person to get along with either,” Anna ceded with a conspiratorial wink to Pepper. “Brilliant, yes, and he’s the most driven man I’ve ever met, but I have had to smooth some ruffled feathers. Especially with the zoning board.” Pepper winced and looked sympathetic.

“He sounds just like me,” Tony interjected.

She led them into an enormous ballroom that had been transformed into a glittering winter garden. Every available surface was filled with thousands of white roses; richly decorated Christmas trees sparkled with white lights, and swathes of white and blue silk had been draped over the walls and tables. Soft music was playing and there was already a decent size crowd of people milling about the room. Waiters wove through them with trays of food and champagne.

“Again, welcome. If there’s anything you need, any of you, please feel free to ask. Dr. Banner, there is also herbal tea available. Just look for a waiter in a green vest.” She smiled again and then disappeared back through the archway.

“Funny. Green vest,” Bruce echoed. He took out of place in the room around them, his hands awkwardly stuffed into his pants pockets. “Does it seem like Mr. Keyes knows a lot about us?”

“I’m sure he does his homework.” Tony snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray. 

“Right.” Bruce didn’t seem convinced.

Natasha paused to examine one of the large bouquets of roses. “I have to say, Tony. As far as parties go, this guy’s gonna give you a run for your money.”

Tony scowled. “Why won’t he be here for the unveiling? When you put months of your blood, sweat, and tears into something, you don’t let someone else cut the ribbon.” He paused to wave and say hello to several people he knew. “And why does Clint get to bring toys?”

“Because I’m special,” Clint answered matter-of-factly. His eyes were on a tray piled high with petit fours.

Steve exchanged a look with Bruce and started searching for an empty table, preferably one along the wall. As he turned, he saw Anna come back through the archway with an older woman at her side. The older woman had streaks of dark chestnut in her silver hair; she wore a simple red dress with a white shawl over her shoulders. His heart thudded in his chest when the woman turned toward him and he saw her face.

“Peggy?” He closed the distance between them, then pulled up short of embracing her. “Is it really you?”

“You still have no idea how to talk to a woman, Rogers.” She smiled and her eyes shone a little too brightly.

“Peggy, I didn’t…I mean…why are you here?” He caught her hands in his, more than a little afraid of hurting her. She looked so frail compared to how he remembered her.

“My niece Sharon was one of the victims.” She patted his hand affectionately. “Mr. Keyes insisted that I be here. Although it is late for an old woman. But I did promise you a dance.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Sorry I’m late.”

“If you need anything, Ms. Carter,” Anna said softly.

“How about a waltz?”

Anna smiled. “Absolutely. Just give me one minute.”

Steve felt as though he held a delicate bird in his hands as he walked with Peggy, letting her hold onto his arm. The Peggy he knew was still there; he could see it in her eyes. It didn’t matter than he didn’t know how to dance, he was too happy to have her there, even if she was still barking orders at him. Long before the waltz ended, she was obviously tiring and ceded that he was hopeless. He helped her to a seat at one of the tables and stayed, listening with rapt attention as she talked about her life after the War.

When it came time for the ceremony and unveiling, he waved the others on and stayed at the table with Peggy. It was just a statue.

**

The Mayor gave the official speech. Clint didn’t pay much attention; he’d heard it all before. Rebuild, restore, renew, etc. The collar of his dress shirt itched.

“Stop wriggling,” Natasha said under her breath.

He rolled his eyes, but figured if she could hold still in that dress, he could survive an evening in a suit. As he waited for the speech to be over – yes, Logan Keyes was amazing and wonderful and such a great man – he counted the steel support beams, counted the video cameras, counted everything he could put a number on. 

Natasha dug her elbow into his side.

“Ow,” he hissed at her. She motioned forward just as the scissors closed and the heavy cloth fell away from the monument.

In the background, black granite had been carved into the silhouette of a city skyline representing the twelve buildings that had been destroyed in the attack; he’d paid attention to that part. Along the surface of the granite, each and every name of those who had died in the Chitauri attack had been hand carved. It was sobering and staggering to see the names laid out in front of them. In the foreground, as though standing between the names of the dead and the rest of the world, were the Avengers; each of them had been carved out of gray stone that ran through with glittering veins of silver and black. They were all larger than life, which was new for everyone but the Hulk; even Natasha looked over six feet tall.

Clint went still. He tuned out the cheering and the voices around him, and carefully adjusted the strap of his quiver.

Eventually, the reporters had their fill of questions. Clint answered none of the questions directed at him. Then came the politicians and other social leeches; Clint ignored them as well. By the time it was just the Avengers left, the rest of the party having returned to the ballroom and the food, the rest of the team was looking at him sideways.

“Don’t you like it?” Bruce asked.

“Look at it.” Clint started on the left, pointing things out as he went. “You’ve got Tony, far left, his suit shredded and helmet gone. Hulk behind him. Then Cap. Look at his shield, it shows damage. Me kneeling in front with my bow drawn. Thor, then Nat.”

Tony shrugged. “So it’s realistic. We were pretty beat up that day.”

“Is this familiar to anyone else?” The more he looked at it, the more he knew he was right. Even the point of view, standing at the base of the statue and looking up at all of them; he had to be right. 

“I don’t understand,” Pepper said.

“Imagine Nat with a scepter in her hands,” Clint insisted. He saw the moment that the realization hit Natasha; she swore in Russian. “This is exactly how we were standing in the tower that day. Standing over Loki. Stark, you’d taken off your helmet. Look at the tear in Steve’s uniform, his right shoulder. Who could know that? Who, on this Earth, could possibly know what we looked like and where we were standing that day? Who would even be able to carve Thor to begin with? Look at it; that is Thor. It’s a perfect likeness. SHIELD scrubbed all that footage, there’s no way someone found a good enough picture of Thor to get his armor right.”

“Logan Keyes,” Tony said quietly. “Loki. That son of a bitch. He’s been right under our noses this whole time.”

Clint looked around and realized who was missing. “Guys, where’s Steve?”

**

Steve wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’ve missed you, Peggy.”

“I missed you for seventy four years, Rogers.” Her fingers squeezed his hand lightly as she looked up. The expression on her face brightened. “Mr. Keyes. I can’t thank you enough for insisting that I come tonight.”

Steve turned and the words died in his throat.

Loki stood before him, but he looked very different than he had a year before. He was dressed in an elegant black suit with no tie, only a green and gold silk scarf draped around his neck. His black hair was cut short and it made the line of his cheekbones appear even more severe. He looked weary, but as though he was finally ready to lay down a heavy burden.

“You cut your hair,” Steve said dumbly.

Loki smiled. “I’m glad you could make it, Ms. Carter. You look radiant, as always.”

Steve had to look away, his heart was pounding again and he felt like the world was spinning. Loki was Logan Keyes; Logan Keyes was Loki. Of course. Why hadn’t he seen it before? The man who had almost single handedly rebuilt New York, who had visited Peggy because her niece had died in the attack – his head snapped back to Loki, eyes widening as he realized what it meant.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Rogers?” Peggy asked, concerned.

“You did all this.” Steve shook his head, unable to force it to make sense. “All of this. You did this for me?”

Loki looked down at the floor, the fingers of his right hand picking nervously at his left palm. “You must forgive Captain Rogers, Ms. Carter. I’m afraid that I haven’t been entirely straightforward with him about this project. Or my intentions.”

Peggy smiled. There were tears in her eyes. “I think I understand, Mr. Keyes. And I am truly glad.”

“Captain.” Loki held out his hand and Steve could see that his fingers were shaking. “I believe you know how to waltz.”

Steve blinked. “You’re asking me to dance?”

“I am, yes.”

He looked at Peggy, lost and confused. She patted his hand gently. “You’re ready, Steve. It was wonderful to see you again. I wish you happiness.”

“Anna will see to you, Peggy. Thank you again.” Loki leaned in to press a quick kiss against her cheek. 

Steve swallowed. He felt numb and as though his entire body was tingling all at the same time. Loki took his hand and pulled him away from the table. He was vaguely aware that people were beginning to return from the outer room and that they were staring. Unable to think clearly, he let Loki lead and fell into step with him. It felt natural, easy; as though he’d been dancing the waltz with Loki for years. Maybe he had.

“So,” he began, his voice breaking even with that much sound.

“Every brick,” Loki answered smoothly. “And every family. Every wife, husband, parent, and child. One thousand eight hundred and fifty seven names.”

“How?”

Loki’s smile was weary and the circles under his eyes looked like old bruises. “I haven’t slept much in the past two years.” 

“I’m sorry, this is just…this is…”

“If you don’t believe me, I can give you their names. I can tell you that Marcy Henderson planted a pear tree in the backyard in memory of her husband, Lucas. That Max Littleton claims not to miss his son at all, but drowns himself in vodka every night.”

“Stop,” Steve choked. “These are people, Loki. Real people. This isn’t a game.”

Loki’s eyes flashed. “I do not understand.”

“All of this. Because you want to have sex with me?” Steve couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He hadn’t expected Loki to take him seriously, let alone literally.

“At first, yes.” Loki glanced away for a moment. “At first, I wanted to prove to you how easily I could do what you’d asked. But there was a point that I…that it was no longer about you.” He was rigid in Steve’s arms but there was something very fragile about him, as though a harsh word could shatter him to pieces then and there. “Then I thought to give it up as impossible. But I couldn’t do that either. It ate at me, this sickness. You spend your lives in such tragedy, such pain and suffering. And no matter how I try, I can’t rid myself of this cold inside me. It doesn’t matter how much I do, how many people like Anna that I help, because it will never, ever be enough. I don’t know how to feel this way and not drown in it.” 

“Loki,” Steve whispered. He could hear the heartbreak in Loki’s voice and recognized it for what it was. Guilt. Shame. Humanity.

“You are all that makes sense in this whole world.” Loki caught Steve’s hands, held them together and pressed fervent kisses against his knuckles. “This insanity, this madness that you’ve driven me to. Yes, I’ve done this for you. But also not for you. I’ve done this to be something better than what I am. To be worthy of you.”

People were definitely staring now.

Steve didn’t care.

He wrapped his arms around Loki and kissed him as though his life depended on it. Lights flashed; he’d be front page news the next day. Captain America and Logan Keyes. It would be scandal; it would be worse if anyone knew who Logan Keyes really was. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that his heart felt as though it would burst in his chest from too many emotions that he couldn't figure out, all rushing through him. Someone was shouting or cheering, he couldn’t be certain and it didn’t matter.

“Steve!” Clint shouted.

Time seemed to stutter and then stop. Steve pulled away, feeling as though he were trapped in invisible tar, and saw Clint with his bow drawn; the others were only steps behind him. The arrow made a popping sound as it left the string, but appeared to travel in slow motion. He shoved his shoulder against Loki and pushed him out of the way.

The arrow came straight at him.

**

Clint blinked. The room had suddenly gone silent and everyone around him appeared to be frozen.

Loki reached out casually and caught the arrow when it was inches away from Steve’s face. He spun it between his fingers as he walked toward Clint, unhurried and unconcerned.

Clint didn’t let his surprise show on his face. “I’m guessing these won’t kill you.”

“Not likely.”

“Then why let me bring them?”

“Because it was unlikely that my identity would not be discovered this evening. And because I preferred that you fall back to what you knew rather than improvise.” Loki motioned to the room around them. “Less collateral damage that way.”

“Since when do you care?” Clint snarled.

Loki’s smile was bitter and brittle. “I just finished rebuilding this city, Agent Barton. Don’t give me a reason to destroy it again.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.” Clint lowered his bow. “I just had to be sure.”

“Of what?”

Clint slowly eased the strap of his quiver over his head and let it fall to his side. “Steve.”

Loki hesitated, glancing back for the briefest second. “And?”

“You saw him. He’d die for you. For you. He wouldn’t even think about it.” He saw the muscles in Loki’s jaw tighten. “You know I’m right. The proof is standing right behind you.”

“You underestimate your Captain.”

“Steve’s in love with you. Steve’s also an idiot.” Clint folded his arms. “So, alright. Convince me that Steve’s life is worth yours. Because that’s what this really comes down to. You keep this up and one of these days, he’ll die to save you. For something that might not even kill you, but he won’t know that anymore than he knew that arrow wouldn’t kill you. He’d probably still do it even if he knew. It’ll be because of something you did or an enemy you made, I don’t really care which. He’ll fight for you and he’ll die for you.”

“You sound certain of something you cannot know.”

“I know your life isn’t worth his and it never will be.” He caught the flinch, as though he’d struck out and hit Loki physically. “If you care about him, you’ll end this. You’ll leave and you’ll never come back. I don’t care how you do it. Disappear without a word, like a coward; he’s already used to that. Or make something up, break his heart; I’m sure you’re real good at that too.” As the silence stretched out, he knew he’d hit the right buttons and he’d won.

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll do it for you.” Clint didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t have to. All he had to do was lay down the groundwork and Loki’s own fears would fill in the details.

“Give me until New Years. Do nothing until then,” Loki said softly. “That’s all I ask. Please.”

Clint knew it must’ve killed Loki to say please. “Only because Steve has a thing for Christmas and I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

Loki straightened; jaw set and eyes glittering coldly. “You have your deal, Agent Barton. I believe the custom in this Realm is a handshake.” He closed the distance between them in two easy steps, holding out the arrow and waiting.

Clint accepted the arrow and set it aside. His skin crawled, but he held out his hand. Just as Loki’s fingers closed around his, the world around them snapped into motion again. Loki’s grip held him in place long enough for Steve to start toward them, confusion plain on his face.

“Clint Barton, everyone!” Loki said suddenly, his voice carrying throughout the ballroom. He used his grip on Clint’s hand to pull him around and keep him from reaching for his bow again. “The finest archer in seven centuries. Perhaps if you cheer loudly enough, he will give you a demonstration.” Glad for any distraction that made sense, the guests began to clap and cheer.

“Bastard,” Clint hissed under his breath.

Loki turned to him, green eyes sharp and angry. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Barton.” 

Steve reached them and his hands immediately went to Loki, searching for injuries. “What happened? Clint? What’s going on?”

Tony arched an eyebrow at Loki and gave him a scathing once over. “No wonder you never returned any of my phone calls, Mr. Keyes.”

“So sorry,” Loki said silkily and without any sincerity at all.

Steve held up his hands. “Guys, guys. It’s okay. Everyone just relax. We’re surrounded by people with cameras. Let’s play nice until this is all over.”

“Now you care about the cameras? Way to shock and awe your way out of the proverbial closet, Cap.” But Tony seemed to take it as a valid point and his most charming smile returned as he raised a hand. “Waiter? Champagne, if you will. Make that a lot of champagne. Skip the glasses, just bring us a case. And scotch, if you’ve got it.”

The waiter looked to Loki, uncertain and slightly terrified. Loki nodded. “Find Mrs. Brenner. We prepared for this contingency.”

“Which contingency?” Steve asked, unsure if he meant he was prepared for Clint to start shooting or for the press to have a field day with photographs of them making out mid waltz.

“Mr. Stark is a contingency all his own,” Loki said dryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I believe I am the host of this event and I have been lax in my duties.” He gave Clint a dark look and kissed Steve chastely on the lips before walking away.

Gradually, everyone’s eyes fell on Clint and he groaned, realizing that the crowd around them was still waiting expectantly. He shrugged off his suit coat and wrenched the tie from around his neck. “Fine. Just find me something worth shooting.”

**

Steve learned two things in the hour after his entire world was turned upside down and shaken.

First, Clint really could shoot the petals off of a rose at five hundred feet.

Second, Loki really was a Prince. The way he moved, the way he carried himself, was effortlessly regal, as though he had armies at his command. When he chose to be, he was incredibly charming. He had the press laughing and eating out of his hand; the politicians were already predicting a bright future. It seemed second nature to him, though it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was the diplomatic half of Asgard’s royal family.

Steve thought about that long and hard as he watched Loki work the room. It was yet another side to Loki that he’d never seen.

“If he weren’t, well, Loki,” Natasha said conversationally, taking the seat at the table beside him. “I’d say he’s damn impressive. If this is what he’s like when he turns on the charm, no wonder you’re smitten.”

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Natasha watched him thoughtfully. “Come on. You never got to see the memorial. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back.”

Reluctantly, Steve followed. He’d almost forgotten about the reason they were there. He glanced back once and saw that Loki was watching him. He held up a hand, trying to communicate that he would be back; Loki nodded once and then returned to the conversation before him. 

The memorial took his breath away. His eyes immediately fell to the names. For each one of those names, Loki had visited every single family. He couldn’t imagine visiting that many people; hearing their stories, seeing their loss and their pain. No wonder Loki looked as though he were haunted; he had every one of these names and the ruins of what was left behind inside his head.

“How many do you think there are?” Natasha asked quietly.

“One thousand eight hundred and fifty seven,” Steve answered. He looked for the nearest bench and sat down, burying his face in his hands. “That was the deal.”

“Deal?”

He felt her sit beside him, an oddly comforting presence considering she could probably kill him in a hundred different ways. “The New Years Eve that I, that we,” he stopped, unable to finish.

“Bite marks?”

“That one.” He rubbed at his face. “I told him no. I mean, he wanted to…and I couldn’t. I told him I wouldn’t say yes until he rebuilt New York. Every brick.” The words caught in his throat and he had to cough, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. “Until he apologized to the families of everyone who died. He did all this because of me, Natasha. Because I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him until he did.”

“Wow.” Natasha leaned back, staring up at the colossal monument of stone. 

“What do I do?”

“Other than screw his brains out?”

He frowned at her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I just don’t know what to tell you.”

Raking his fingers through his hair again, he got up and paced toward the base of the statues. He stared up at himself and the others and wondered if they really looked that terrifying in real life. “I think I can save him, Nat. I didn’t think I could. Not until tonight. But this…this changes everything.”

“Cap,” she said hesitantly.

“You didn’t hear him. He’s starting to understand what it means to be human. He feels guilty, Nat. He never did before. And it’s tearing him apart.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the strange joy that was bubbling up inside him. “He’s trying to make a difference, trying to make up for what he did. Look at this.” He waved at the carved stone in front of them. “If this isn’t proof, then what is? This is about honoring the people who died. He did this. He made it happen. And not with magic either; this wasn’t easy. He did this with his own two hands.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. None of us do.”

“I can save him,” Steve said again, more to himself than anyone else. 

“And you have to try.” She smiled up at him.

“Because I’m Captain America?”

Her smile widened into a laugh. “Because anyone with half a brain can tell you’re in love with him, Cap. And I’m pretty sure the rest of New York City knows by now too.”

“Does love mean anything these days?”

She stood up and crossed to him, taking his hands in hers. “It means everything. Especially these days.” 

He took a deep breath and looked back at the archway. “I think I need to go.”

“Go. I’m sure Stark will love to be the center of attention for awhile.”

Steve pulled her into a hug, crushing her against his chest. “Thank you.”

“Can’t breathe!” she gasped.

“Sorry!” He let go immediately and pulled away. 

“Just go. Go…do whatever.” She caught his arm as he turned. “And use protection. I mean, he’s not exactly human. You never know.”

He laughed, his face growing hot. “Right.” He nearly stumbled over his own feet in his hurry to return to the ballroom.

Loki was impossible to lose in the crowd. Tall and regal, he stood out like the God he was. Steve started forward, barely noticing or paying attention to the people trying to ask him questions or talk to him. He didn’t have time for any of that now. He met Loki’s eyes halfway there and knew, somehow, that Loki understood immediately. By the time he’d crossed the room, Loki had gracefully finished the conversation he’d been having and caught his arm, steering him toward an elevator. The doors whispered closed and the noise of the ballroom disappeared. Loki slid a key into a slot at the top of the control panel and turned it.

“Do you live here?” Steve asked awkwardly.

“I always did. Now it is merely legal.” Loki kept his face straight ahead, not looking at Steve.

The elevator dinged at the highest floor marked on the panel and kept going. When it came to a stop, the doors slid open to reveal a short hallway leading to double doors. Loki reached down to catch his wrist and pull him forward. The same key slid into the doorknob. Inside, the apartment was both everything and nothing like Steve remembered. It was significantly larger, with windows all around and incredible views of the city.

“It’s amazing,” he said, eyes wide as he took it all it.

Overall, the look and style were the same. It was sleek and modern, with art covering the walls and an industrial edge to the furniture. He saw scale models of the buildings that Loki had worked on placed neatly along one of the walls, as well as a scale model of the memorial sculpture. 

“Would you like a drink?” Loki asked as he started toward the kitchen. He tugged the scarf loose and shed his suit jacket as he walked. A sound caught his attention and he tugged a cell phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen for several moments before he set it on the counter. He pulled two wine glasses from a cabinet and a bottle of wine from an under counter wine refrigerator.

“So this is what you’ve been doing.” Steve crouched down by the models, fascinated by the intricate detail. “Between Christmases.”

“It has kept me occupied.”

Steve wiped his hands, palms sweating, against his pants. He shouldn’t be so nervous, he told himself. When he turned around, he saw Loki carrying two wine glasses and the bottle. He set the glasses on the coffee table and poured the wine. “Is that?”

“Yes.” Loki glanced up, his eyes bright. “I have no desire to get you drunk. But you seem nervous. I thought it might help you relax.”

He felt like an idiot for being nervous. “Thank you,” he said lamely.

“You didn’t know how to waltz until several hours ago either.” Loki finished pouring and settled onto the couch with a glass in hand. “But you did well with me.”

Steve’s cheeks burned. “So you’ve…I mean. This isn’t…for you.”

“No.”

Steve moved away from the models and picked up the second glass. He’d drained half of it before he sat down.

“Easy, easy,” Loki cautioned.

“Sorry.” He felt like he was overheating so he removed his suit jacket and tie, draping them over the back of the couch. “So how do we…how does this start?”

Loki threw his head back and laughed. “My dear Captain, there isn’t a rulebook.”

Steve felt the tension build in his lower back. “I can work with that.” He set the wine glass back on the coffee table and pressed into Loki. He tasted wine on Loki’s tongue and gently sucked at his lower lip. Loki pulled away to swallow down the rest of his wine before he set the glass on the floor. “No fair,” Steve said with a smile. “I don’t want you drunk either.”

“Afraid I won’t remember?” Loki asked, eyes half closed.

“You’ll remember this,” Steve promised with more boldness than he felt. He leaned forward, easing his weight down until he was settled between Loki’s legs. His scraped his fingernails through the short hair at the back of Loki’s neck and realized that he missed the ponytail. “Why did you cut your hair?”

“It didn’t suit the illusion of this identity,” Loki answered carefully. He made small, easy movements with his hips, pressing up against Steve and creating friction between them.

“Does Logan Keyes have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?” Steve asked. He pressed kisses down Loki’s neck, biting every so often. Each time his teeth connected with Loki’s skin, he felt him tense and shiver beneath him.

“No.”

Steve sunk his teeth into Loki’s skin at the base of his neck and was rewarded with a gasp; Loki’s hips bucked against his own. “Okay, you definitely like that.” 

The shirt collar was in the way so he started working on the buttons, keeping his lips moving over Loki’s throat. He had to pull way, pushing up onto his knees, to reach the lower buttons. Loki’s strong fingers made quick work of the buttons of Steve’s shirt. He rose up, wrapping one arm around Steve’s waist as they tugged against the fabric between them. Steve shivered as Loki’s lips and tongue moved across his bare chest. Once the shirts were gone, it was immediately apparent that it wasn’t enough. Steve reached for the zipper of Loki’s pants, but Loki stopped him.

“Easy, soldier. We have all night,” Loki said. Something about the way he said the word soldier made the smoldering heat in the bottom of Steve’s stomach catch fire.

Loki moved to a sitting position, his legs spread wide, and leaned forward to pick up Steve’s wine glass. Strong fingers tugged at Steve’s arm and he moved, sliding off of the couch onto his knees between Loki’s legs. Loki’s hand caught a fistful of hair and pulled Steve’s head back, gently, as he tipped the glass to Steve's lips. Sweet liquid slowly poured into his mouth. He let his hand slide down and pressed his palm against Loki’s erection. The slick fabric of the slacks made it easy to stroke his fingers up and down the length of him, squeezing and tugging through the cloth. Loki jerked and the flow of wine stopped; he was panting.

Steve tugged the glass from his hand and leaned forward to catch his lips. “Easy,” he whispered. “We have all night, remember? And the night after that and the night after that. And every night after that.”

Loki’s grip on Steve’s shoulders tightened and the world spun for an instant. They crashed down onto something soft and smooth. Steve pulled his head up and looked around. They’d landed in the middle of an enormous bed. One of the bedroom walls was entirely glass and the city glittered beyond them. The other walls were covered either in bookshelves or artwork.

“We could’ve walked.” He laughed against Loki’s throat; his head was spinning pleasantly from the wine. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Loki kissed him, hard and demanding, pulling their bodies together with a certainty that left Steve breathless.

His hands explored each curve of muscle, testing the feel and the reaction he got from each caress. He tasted wine and sweat as he kissed Loki’s chest. His fingers trailed down Loki’s side and he was rewarded with Loki arching his back, fingers digging into his shoulders. When his lips reached the hollow of his stomach, just above the waistline of the pants, he heard Loki’s breath hitch in his throat. He bit down on the soft flesh near Loki’s hip. If possible, Loki was even harder now, straining against the thin fabric of his slacks. Steve nuzzled against him; his fingers caught at the button and zipper. Loki didn’t stop him this time. He stripped away the slacks, pulling them down long legs and tossing them away. He’d barely begun to move back when Loki’s hands were at his waist and tugging his pants down over his hips. He had to lie down to let Loki pull the slacks away, leaving him on his back and exposed.

He reached up to drag his fingers through what was left of Loki’s hair. “Promise me you’ll let your hair grow out again.” 

Loki grinned down at him, hands planted on the bed on either side of Steve’s head. “Do you miss it?” 

“Gave me something to grab onto.”

“I suppose you’ll have to find something else for now.” He lowered his weight down onto Steve, settling against him.

It was Steve’s turn to close his eyes and arch his back. He turned his head away, baring his neck, and moaned when Loki’s teeth bit down.

“You love this,” Loki whispered against his throat. “You should see yourself. Captain America. Moaning beneath me. Wanton, shaking with need. You crave this.”

Steve wrapped one arm around Loki and gripped the back of his neck. “You love hearing the sound of your own voice.”

“Do I?” Loki murmured. He bit playfully at Steve’s jaw. “It seems to me that you do as well, if this is any indication.” His fingers closed around Steve’s cock and squeezed. 

Whatever Steve might have said was lost in the strangled sound in his throat. It felt as though someone had poured straight fire into his veins and it was burning him up from the inside out. He was moving, trying to feel more and more, without realizing what he was doing. He had enough presence of mind to catch Loki’s wrist and hold his hand still. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last.”

“What?”

“I’m not kidding.” He didn’t know whether or not to scowl or laugh. “This…this feels really good.”

Loki studied him for a moment. “I can wait.”

“Don’t. Do anything but that.” This time, Steve laughed. He pressed his forehead against Loki’s. “I’m here, I want this. Just tell me what I’m supposed to do. Or show me.”

“My dear Captain.” Loki all but purred against his ear. “I do hope your friends won’t worry should you not return to them tonight.”

“I think they’ll be fine without me for awhile.” 

Steve lost his train of thought at that point because Loki’s teeth were against his neck and his hand was making light strokes along the length of his cock. He shivered. Loki’s mouth moved lower, tongue and teeth taking turns against his skin, and then—

Loki’s mouth was hot and cold at the same time and Steve couldn’t stop himself from thrusting against him. He was shaking, clutching fistfuls of the bedding at his sides, and then he was glad Loki was strong enough to hold him down. It took several minutes for the stars to begin to clear from his vision. He became aware of Loki’s body pressed against his side and long fingers drawing patterns over his chest.

“That was,” he started and stopped, swallowing. “Sorry.”

A wicked smile spread across Loki’s face; his lips were red and just slightly swollen. “That was merely the beginning.”

**

Steve lost track of the minutes, then the hours, and then the days.

He lost track of everything that wasn’t Loki.

He learned that Loki had the most beautiful laugh he’d ever heard, but he only truly laughed when he was happy and that was rare. He learned to cook bacon and eggs with Loki distracting him and that Loki loved Chinese takeout. 

He learned that there were more sides to Loki than he could have imagined.

Within minutes, Loki could go from cold and distant to gentle and affectionate. He could disappear into his architectural drawings for what seemed like hours, but he always made sure that Steve had a sketchbook and a fresh set of pencils. He could be demanding and forceful, green eyes blazing as he drove Steve up against a wall or against the carpet and _took_. Then he would _give_ until Steve felt like he would drown in it.

Loki spoke more languages than Steve could count. He heard the strange words most often when they were tangled together, breathless and slicked with sweat. Once, Steve found himself on his hands and knees on the bed, his entire body rocked forward with each of Loki’s thrusts. He was panting; his head was spinning. He knew the moment that Loki climaxed, buried deep inside him, because a dozen words in a dozen languages tumbled from his lips. 

Steve heard only one of them. _Amour_.

Later, he buried his face against Loki’s neck and let strong fingers guide him as he pressed against and then into Loki’s body. He was patient; he forced Loki to be patient. He used his hands and his teeth, teasing and then teasing more, even as he thrust into Loki with slow, steady strokes. 

The only word on Loki’s lips that time was his name. _Steve_.

Sometimes, Steve thought, the right word was fuck. They fucked; it was hard and they tore at each other like it was a battle. Sometimes, they made love and there was nothing else in the whole world but their bodies entwined together, skin against skin. There wasn’t a room in Loki’s apartment, barely even a flat or vertical surface, where they hadn’t taken each other one way or another.

He began to notice a sadness in Loki’s eyes, mostly when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. He would stare out at the city sometimes, but it was as though he was staring into another world.

Steve finally searched for and found his cellphone to check the date. _December 24th_. He’d been with Loki for five days. Five days that he could only account for in bruises and bite marks and the flush of his skin; he was sore in places he hadn’t even known he had. Seeing the date on the phone’s screen, he almost called Stark Tower, but couldn’t convince his fingers to move.

“Here.” Loki set a mug down on the coffee table.

Steve knew before he even reached for it that it would be black and his favorite. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he said without preamble. He was already trying to remember everything that New York City had to offer. “We should go out. Celebrate.”

Loki sipped at his coffee and the way he held the mug in both hands reminded Steve of Natasha. “What would you like to do?”

“Maybe I just want to show everyone that I’m the luckiest man in New York.” Steve reached for his mug. “We've done nothing but eat, shower, and have sex, sometimes all of the above, for the last five days.”

“I haven’t heard you complain.”

“Not complaining. Not at all.” He balanced the mug and leaned in to kiss Loki, savoring the hint of sugar on his lips. That’s how Loki took his coffee; no cream, just sugar. “But, at some point, SHIELD is going to get a search warrant and come looking for me.”

Loki’s smile was brittle. “No doubt.” 

“Let’s get a Christmas tree.” He’d been surprised that Loki hadn’t gotten one already, but figured that planning the memorial unveiling had taken precedence. “We’ll decorate it, watch a movie. Curl up in bed.”

“And would this curling up involve clothing?”

Steve didn’t even manage to finish his coffee before Loki’s hands were removing his clothes. The coffee was cold by the time Loki was straddling him, riding him hard and refusing to allow him to do more than hold on. When he demanded that Steve grip harder; he did. They nearly broke the couch before Loki threw his head back, gasping, and brought them both to the edge and over it. Hot, white semen spurted over Steve’s bare chest as he thrust into Loki one last time and found his own release.

An hour later, when Loki went down on his knees in the shower and sucked Steve’s cock into his mouth, he knew something was wrong.

Still, he kept quiet and fell into the bed afterward, naked and damp, to sleep for a few hours with Loki pressed against his back. When he woke, it was late afternoon and Loki was standing by the window in a black, silk robe. He looked pale and tired in the waning light.

“Loki?”

He stirred and he was smiling when he turned around. “Are you hungry?”

“What’s going on?” Steve sat up, growing more worried by the moment. “Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

Loki’s smile turned sharp-edged. “Nothing lasts forever.”

Steve blinked at him. “That’s it? That’s what you’re worried about?” He wanted to laugh. Relief spread through him and he got out of bed, ignoring the fact that he was naked and there was an entire wall of windows in front of him. He wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t be certain of this,” Loki said, amused. “Bad things happen.”

“And a meteor from space could hit this building tomorrow. You can’t stop bad things by hiding from them.” He breathed in the scent of soap and something that was entirely Loki.

Loki’s stiff-backed posture loosened enough for him to return the embrace. His breath was cool against Steve’s cheek. “I can’t keep you to myself forever, is that what you’re saying?” 

“I’m saying that no matter where I go, I will come back to you.”

Loki frowned, his eyes searching Steve’s face for something. “Why?”

“Because I want to be here, with you.” Steve met Loki’s gaze even though he felt like he was shaking inside. There were three more words on his tongue but he couldn’t pry them loose.

“The Avengers will expect you to return to them soon,” Loki said quietly.

“Then I will.” Steve stroked the back of his fingers against Loki’s cheekbone. “And then I’ll come back to you. We’ll find a way, we’ll work something out. Come back to bed. You look exhausted.” He pulled Loki back to the bed and pulled the covers over them both. He half expected more sex, but instead, Loki pressed against him and closed his eyes. It was the first time Loki fell asleep before Steve.

**

Tony had saved every newspaper and magazine that had printed a picture of Captain America kissing Logan Keyes at the unveiling reception. They were neatly stacked on Steve’s bed when he got back to the tower. He couldn’t help but laugh at some of the headlines, even though not all of them were nice or complimentary. He hadn’t cared what the press thought of him before and he wasn’t about to start caring now.

“You’re the talk of the town.” Tony stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. “And we’ve all been imagining the crazy sex you’ve been having for the past five days, so spare us the details.”

Steve gathered up the pile and set it aside. He sat down on the bed, nodding toward the desk chair. “How’s everything been here?”

“Weird.” Tony took a seat, his gaze moving restlessly over the room. “Fury just about unspooled when he heard about you and Mister Tall, Dark, and Evil. It was pretty awesome, actually.” 

“Am I…still…” he trailed off, unable to finish the question.

“We’re thinking of changing your uniform colors to rainbow. Now that you’re the out and proud Gay Avenger.”

“But I still have a uniform?” Steve couldn’t quite keep the fear out of his voice. He hadn’t realized how much he was risking until he’d returned to Stark Tower that morning and found it silent and empty.

“It’ll take time to get used to, that’s all.” Tony took a deep breath. “But no one can argue with results, can they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Loki hasn’t killed anyone since you pulled him out of the ocean. Hasn’t hurt anyone in years. He rebuilt the city. He’s New York’s golden boy. Even if Fury wanted to go after him, he’ll have to wait until America’s love affair with the love affair of Captain America and the reincarnation of Frank Lloyd Wright dies down.”

“Do you think Fury will go after Loki?” 

Tony went still. “Absolutely. Maybe if Thor could tell us why Asgard thinks it’s okay to let Loki run amok down here on little old Earth; maybe that would make a difference. Until then, Loki’s still an enemy of SHIELD. He’ll wait ‘til the honeymoon phase is over, probably. Not sure if that’s better or worse. For you.”

Steve looked down at his hands, trying to decide what he’d do if it came to that. He’d hoped the others could see that Loki had changed and that would be enough.

“Steve,” Tony said softly. “Do you know what you’re doing here? Really. Because if you look me in the eye and say yes, I’ll believe you. But this is Loki and you are in over your head. You have got to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” Steve whispered.

“Sure enough to put your life on the line?”

“Yes.”

“What about his?”

Steve hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“SHIELD won’t come for you, Steve. They’ll come for him and they’ll use you to get to him. That’s how they work.”

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into Loki’s bed and never leave. He understood why there had been sadness in Loki’s eyes, why he’d stood staring out the window and wondered how long it could last; of course Loki had known what the consequences would be. Steve had thought it only mattered what they wanted, but he had to admit that Tony was right. He took a deep breath and met Tony’s gaze squarely. “SHIELD may have forgotten who and what Loki is. But I never have. If they go after him, it’s not Loki that I’m worried about. And I won’t let anyone take him away from me without a fight.”

Tony smiled, but he looked tired and worried. “I just hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”

“We will be.”

With a nod, Tony stood up and started for the door. “And try not to traumatize JARVIS. What is seen cannot be unseen.”

Steve moved the pile of newspapers and magazines to his desk. They were pictures of him and Loki together and he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. Not yet. He showered, dressed, and began organizing his sketchbooks. There were dozens, no, hundreds, of sketches of Loki. Some of them dated back to the summer he’d pulled Loki from the ocean. He could see the subtle shift as he looked through them. The sharp-edge smile turning from arrogant to brittle; the anger in his eyes fading into something darker and more haunted. In the sketches, the dark circles under his eyes deepened and his cheekbones sharpened.

He promised himself that he would make it right. He would find a way to fix what was broken inside of Loki.

The day came and went. He barely saw or spoke to the others and began to doubt his decision to return to the tower at all. When night fell, he retreated to his room and stared at his phone. Loki had only told him that he had business to take care of; what business he could have on Christmas Day was beyond Steve.

“Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said suddenly.

Steve started, pulled from his thoughts, and looked up to see Loki appear in the middle of his bedroom. “Loki.”

Loki looked around, watching the walls and the ceiling. “It’s getting better at detecting my arrival.”

“I do have a name, sir,” JARVIS responded.

Loki blinked, surprised. “You wish me to address you by your name?”

“That would be preferable, sir.”

Steve smiled. He left the bed and moved to Loki, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’ll get used to him. I promise.”

“I doubt that.”

“Where have you been?” Steve nuzzled against his neck.

“I had arrangements to make.” Loki kissed him gently, fingers slipping through his hair. “I thought to make it a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“I called in a few favors.” Loki reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box, much like the one that the shield cuff links had been in.

Steve frowned as he took the box. It clicked open; two plain, silver colored bands gleamed inside. His heart skipped a beat. “Are these…?” He couldn’t finish the question.

“They are made of a substance called adamantium. I thought that more durable than gold or titanium.”

“That’s not.” Steve shook his head. “I wasn’t asking what they were made of. What are they for?”

Loki looked at him strangely. “I understand that it is customary in this Realm to exchange rings as a symbol of affection. On Asgard, the courtship period is often quite lengthy and involved. It is much simpler to accomplish here and I do not believe that we have any reason to wait.”

“Courtship? Loki.” Steve stared at the rings and his head was starting to spin. He backed up until he could sit down on the bed, still holding the box in his hand. “These are wedding rings. You can’t just wear a ring and be married. You have to get a marriage license and a justice of the peace.”

“Done and done. Both are waiting for us at the courthouse. There is typically a waiting period but I was able to convince them to waive that.”

Steve stared. “You want to marry me? Right now.”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “Have I done this incorrectly?”

“No, no. Just give me a second.” He realized his hands were shaking when he reached out to touch one of the rings. Finally, he took a deep breath. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

He snapped the box shut and stood up. “Tell Tony that I’m going to the courthouse to get married.”

**

“Tony!” Pepper called. “Come see this!”

Tony picked up the bottle of scotch and motioned to Bruce. “Come on, big guy. If I have to suffer through this, so do you.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said dryly.

He padded into the living room, half hoping it would just be monsters from outer space. Again. Clint and Natasha were already there and there was a reporter blathering on the television screen about a couple guys getting married. Not aliens then. Or, at least, only one of them was an alien. The other one was just an idiot.

Pepper muted the sound but the image of Steven Rogers and Logan Keyes, now newlyweds and, apparently very happy and very publicly affectionate about it, was still extremely visible. “They eloped.” 

Tony took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I told him, what is seen cannot be unseen. I told him. Didn’t I say exactly that, JARVIS? Didn’t I use those exact words?”

“Fury is going to have a stroke.” Natasha sighed as she sat down. “Am I the only one worried that this might end very badly for Steve?”

“Hey,” Bruce said, his tone unexpectedly sharp. “Steve’s an adult. This is his choice to make.”

“It’s Loki,” Clint said darkly.

Tony held up his hands. “Time out, time out. Everyone in this room is on Team Steve. We’re just a little unsure about Team Loki. That’s going to take…I have no idea what that’s going to take. But it doesn’t matter. If it goes to hell, it goes to hell. And we’ll be there for Steve, no matter what his psychotic husband does. Steve’s one of us and this doesn’t change that. Agreed?” He looked at each one of them and waited for them to nod their acknowledgement. “Good, that’s settled. Now, who’s up for getting extremely drunk? Natasha, you owe me a rematch in Scrabble. And no Russian this time!”


	6. Christmas the Fifth

A buzzing sound woke Steve. He rolled, squinting against the daylight, and grabbed his phone. “Hello?”

“Steve!” Pepper sounded terrified. “Thank God you’re okay. Are you alright? Is there anything we can do? I am so sorry.”

“What?” He sat up, trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. “What are you talking about, Pepper?” He looked around the bedroom – Loki’s bedroom – and judging from the angle of the sun, it was late afternoon.

“Steve,” Pepper’s voice shook. “Do you know where Loki is?”

“He’s been in California. Flying back to New York today.” Something twisted in the pit of his stomach and he felt cold begin to creep up his spine. “What’s going on?”

“You need to get to the tower as soon as possible. Please, Steve. I’ll send a car or Tony. Maybe Bruce. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“Okay, okay.” He stared at the phone, confused. Had Pepper just suggested that the Hulk come pick him up?

He hurried to get dressed and dug through his messenger bag for a piece of paper to leave a note for Loki. He scribbled a few words and tacked it to the fridge. Maybe Tony had tried to set up his own fireworks for New Year’s Eve and he’d set the Tower on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time. He locked the door behind him and took the elevator down to the ground floor. The ballroom was dark and empty. There was a dull sound that wasn’t normal; it grew louder as he walked through the archway into the atrium with the Memorial. He saw the security guards standing at the doors and, beyond the glass, there seemed to be a mob of people. From the cameras and microphones, he assumed they were reporters. It wasn’t unusual; in the week since he and Loki had gotten married, they’d been hounded relentlessly by the press.

Pepper didn’t send Tony or Bruce. She sent all of them.

Steve stared, both horrified and confused, as the Avengers made their way through the crowd. Most of them scattered at the sight of the Hulk.

Natasha kicked open the door. “Come on, Cap. Gotta go!”

Steve ran forward, letting Natasha and Clint guide him through the mob while Hulk and Iron Man did crowd control around them; he all but dove into the backseat of one of Tony’s limousines, grateful to escape the crush of people. Once all three of them were inside, the car started moving. He could still hear shouting outside but it was muffled and unintelligible.

“What happened? Did someone attack?” His shield was still at Stark Tower. It hadn’t seemed a problem when Loki could simply snap his fingers and send him there.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Natasha asked, her tone clipped and strangely cold.

He didn’t push. He was still finding his footing around them now that his other half was one of SHIELD’s mortal enemies. There had been no hope of reasoning with Fury; to him, Loki would always be the villain. When they reached Stark Tower, there was another crush of reporters surrounding the doors. They waited until Tony and Hulk returned, once again forcing everyone back far enough that Steve, Natasha, and Clint could make a clean run for the front door. 

“This is insane,” Steve said when they reached the elevators. “What do they want?”

“You,” Natasha answered as she jabbed at the elevator buttons. “And trust me, you do not want to go out there.”

The elevator dinged as it stopped at the residential floor and the doors slid open. He’d barely made it into the living room when Pepper threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a fierce hug. Her eyes were red from crying.

He patted her awkwardly as he pulled away. “Okay, guys. Now would be a good time to tell me what’s going on. I’m serious.”

“JARVIS.” Pepper sniffed. “Could you play the news report, please?”

“Yes, Miss Potts.”

Steve turned to the television. On the screen, he saw images of the blackened, smoldering wreckage of an airplane. The reporter was talking, but he didn’t really pay attention until his own face flashed up on the screen. It was a picture of him and Loki.

The reporter’s voice suddenly grew louder. “Among the victims is Logan Keyes, noted architect and husband of beloved hero, Captain America.”

“That’s not…that can’t be.” Steve shook his head with disbelief. “A plane crash? He’d walk away from that. There’s no way.” He looked around the room and saw nothing but somber, sad faces. “Are you expecting me to believe that he…no, that’s wrong.”

Fresh tears shone bright in Pepper’s eyes. “They’ll be returning the body to New York as soon as,” she pressed her hand against her mouth, unable to finish.

“No,” Steve repeated stubbornly. “I watched him fall out of the sky without a plane or anything. There’s no way he didn’t survive this. I appreciate that you’re all worried for me, but really, it’ll be okay.” 

He believed it. He had to believe it. He pulled his eyes away from the television, unable to stand another second. He dug his phone out of his pocket and called Loki’s number. It went straight to voicemail. He told himself that didn’t mean anything; Loki’s flight wasn’t supposed to land in New York until later. It didn’t matter. He sat down on the couch, trying not to grip his phone so tightly that it snapped into pieces. Loki wasn’t human, he was Asgardian, and he’d survived far worse than a plane crash. There was no way he wouldn’t be able to walk away from it. 

“Steve,” Natasha’s voice was gentle and sad. “There were no survivors.”

“Stop it. All of you, stop. You know as well as I do that he’d survive this.”

“Not if someone didn’t want him to.”

“Someone?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Someone like Nick Fury? Was SHIELD behind this?”

“Careful, Steve,” Natasha cautioned.

“Why else would you be so certain that he’s dead?” The words were out before he could think through the ramifications of what he was saying. He watched Natasha’s expression turn icy and hard. 

“You’re right, Steve, he would’ve survived,” Pepper said suddenly. She wiped at her eyes. “Just please, stay here until we know for sure. Until you hear from him and we know he’s okay.”

They waited.

Pepper brought him crackers and tea. Tony and Bruce returned, grouchy and rumpled, but no one had been harmed. They watched the news reports until Steve couldn’t take it anymore and then they sat in the living room in silence, waiting.

Hours later and well into the night, when Steve’s phone finally rang, it wasn’t Loki. 

It was Loki’s lawyer. Steve had only met Lyle Hodson once. He’d signed some papers when Loki had asked him to; because he’d asked him to. Steve hadn’t even read them or asked what they were, just signed his name on the line and trusted that Loki knew what he was doing. 

“Steve?” Pepper asked.

“That was Loki’s--” his voice seemed to snap in half and scraped jagged edges against his throat. “That was his lawyer. I need to go. I have to.” It felt like a steel vise had clamped down around his chest and his throat. “I have to identify the body. I’m sure…I’m sure it’s just a mistake.”

It had to be a mistake.

“We’ll get you there.” Tony stood up, nodding to Bruce. “Come on, let’s clear a path.”

They came with him, all of them. Tony wouldn’t take no for an answer and no one ever argued with the Hulk. But they left the last fifty steps, the last door, for him to walk alone. He expected – he didn’t know what to expect – cold and metal and a strange smell that he couldn’t identify. The body had barely arrived in New York City; he didn’t know how they’d managed to get it there so quickly but figured it probably had something to with SHIELD.

Loki’s skin was perfect porcelain white under the florescent lights; black hair was still soft as silk. Steve didn’t know how long he stood there, his fingers brushing lightly over Loki’s hair. He waited for his eyes to open, waited to see his chest rise as he took a breath and started to laugh because it was all a joke, but there was no movement and nothing but pale, perfect skin. The medical examiner looked none too happy with having been dragged out of bed to watch Steve stand there and advised him not to pull the sheet back any further than Loki’s shoulders. Steve didn’t ask why. He thought he’d want to; he thought he’d want to demand proof that Loki was truly dead. An explanation, a reason, anything; but he didn’t, he couldn’t. 

He’d seen death before.

He signed where he was told to sign and they gave him a bag with Loki’s personal effects. The adamantium wedding band gleamed in the dim light.

When he returned to the lobby area, numb and hollow, he saw Mr. Hodson standing with the others. The lawyer was an older gentleman, with snow white hair and wrinkled skin that looked like he’d known a lifetime of sun. Steve nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get any words out of his mouth even if he tried to speak. It was as though he’d forgotten how.

“I will take care of the funeral arrangements, Captain Rogers,” Mr. Hodson said in his bone dry voice. “Mr. Keyes left a will, of course, which details what is to be done with his assets and holdings. When you are ready, give me a call.” He held out a crisp, white business card. As he left, Steve saw that dawn had begun to wash over the city outside the morgue.

“Steve?” Pepper touched his arm gently.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. “It can’t…it can’t be real.” 

Pepper was there to guide him from the building. There were more reporters outside, they clamored for a statement until Hulk roared them into silence. It was New Year’s Eve, he thought as he looked up into the grey-pink sky. He was supposed to be watching the fireworks that night with Loki at his side. They’d talked about going back to that little island in the Pacific to spend the night on the beach and –

He made it to the car before his entire world shattered into pieces and he fell apart with it.

**

The funeral was beautiful. 

Afterward, Steve remembered looking up and seeing dozens of men standing outside the perimeter set up by the police. They were rough, hard working men, with heavy work boots on and probably the best clothing they owned. He started toward them without thinking much of it and held out his hand to the one who seemed ready to speak for them all.

“Mike Ross, Captain,” one of the men said as he shook Steve’s hand. “Me and some of the guys worked with Logan on the reconstruction sites. We just wanted,” he trailed off, looking around him. “Logan was good man, sir.”

“Thank you for coming,” Steve said automatically. They weren’t here for Loki; none of them had known Loki at all. They’d known Logan Keyes, who was pale shadow of everything Loki had been. 

He shook more hands and the tightness in his chest was returning. Some of the men spoke only broken English. Steve realized that must be how and why Loki had learned all of the languages he’d spoken. When he reached the end and glanced back, he saw Anna embracing Mike Ross and something inside him seemed to snap. Behind him, there were more reporters and politicians waiting to hear all about Logan Keyes. He motioned to one of the police officers.

“I want to find space for these men, all of them.”

“Sir?”

“Throw out the reporters first.” Steve returned to his seat beside the sleek black casket piled high with white roses. He hated reporters. As he sat down beside Tony and Pepper, he began to laugh.

“Cap?” Tony asked worriedly.

“Guess he got everything you said he wanted. Remember? Flowers, a parade. A monument.” His voice broke and tears welled up his eyes, spilling over and down his face. Flashbulbs went off; he’d be on the front page of the gossip magazines the next day with headlines about his broken heart and crying at his husband’s funeral. 

Pepper reached over to take Steve’s hand. “We’re here.”

“You’d think Thor would at least show up for his brother’s funeral,” Tony said, trying to change the subject. He winced under Pepper’s glare. “Right. I’m sure Thor’s busy.”

“If Thor had wanted Loki back,” Steve said angrily, wiping at his eyes. “He would’ve come for him a long time ago. This was Loki’s home, not Asgard.”

The rest of the day blurred together and he couldn’t remember the details. 

The Mayor gave a moving speech about remembering what Logan Keyes had given New York. Anna Brenner spoke about how she’d met Logan and grown to know him after she started working with him. She spoke of his gift with languages and willingness to learn about others, about his voracious hunger for knowledge and his drive to rebuild what had been destroyed.

“I asked him once,” Anna’s voice turned rough with emotion. “Why he didn’t add the names of the family he lost to the monument. His brother, his mother, his father. He spoke very little about the pain of losing his entire family that day, but he wouldn’t add their names. He said the monument wasn’t about what he had lost, it was about what he could give back. To the city, to all of us.” She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Steve, tears in her eyes. “In all the time that I knew him, I never saw him as happy as he was in the short time that he had with you, Captain Rogers.”

Steve closed his eyes and tried not to grip Pepper’s hand too tightly. It was all he could do to take steady, shallow breaths without choking on his own tears. He wondered when Loki had given up all hope of ever returning to Asgard. 

He sat still as a statue as music began to play and the casket was lowered into the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to move a single muscle.

“Thank you. I’ll tell him. Thank you for coming,” Pepper was telling someone that he didn’t know. The other person’s voice was barely a murmur against the roaring in his ears. No one ran interference better than Pepper Potts and, with Tony at her side, they kept him isolated from the constant stream of well-wishers until the crowd had thinned down to the press corps stragglers still hoping for something to put in their evening edition.

Natasha slipped by Pepper and took a seat beside him. She was dressed in a crisp, but feminine, black suit. “Ready to go?” 

Steve opened his eyes, watching her for a moment. He reached out and took her hand, ignoring the way she stiffened under his touch. “I’m sorry, Natasha. About what I said that day. I know none of you would’ve done anything like this. Even though you didn’t trust him, I know you guys trust me.”

She placed her other hand gently over his. “We’re all on Team Steve. At least, that’s what Tony calls it. Pepper wouldn’t let him make t-shirts.”

He almost laughed at the mental image of Tony wearing a Team Steve t-shirt. “Thank you. For being a friend.”

“Any time. Limo’s here if you’re ready to head back to the tower.”

He shook his head and pulled his hand from hers. “Not yet. It’s not…I still have to meet with Loki’s lawyer. And I need to pick up a few things I left at his place. Anna’s going to take me.” 

“Take your time.”

“Thanks. Tell the others not to worry, okay?”

He watched her go, then watched Pepper and Tony make their way toward the exit. In moments, it was just him and rows of empty chairs in the bitter cold of a New York City winter, staring at the place in the ground where Loki was now. Anna was talking to an older gentleman. He would have to move soon; he didn’t want her waiting in the cold when she had a young family at home. His joints were stiff from the cold when he finally forced himself to stand and start toward her.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he told her. Out of habit, he held out his hand to the man at her side; he looked like everyone’s stereotypical grandfather. “Thank you for coming, sir.”

The man shook his hand firmly. “Henry Laws, Captain. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Thanks.”

“Means a lot what you did for the men today,” Henry said.

Steve managed to smile. “I don’t really care for reporters anyway.”

Henry smiled, his eyes far away. “When we were working the reconstruction, they used to call Keyes our lucky rabbit foot.” 

“Why’s that, sir?”

“After he started, there wasn’t a man seriously injured on any of the sites Logan worked. Never seen anything like it in all my years. The year before, I had six good men out with broken bones or worse. One cracked his skull and won’t never be the same. But Logan, he must’ve had eyes in the back of his head. Always looking out for the others.”

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m glad. I don’t know much about his work. I guess…I guess I just saw a different side of him.”

“The man had plenty of sides to him,” Henry agreed. “You do right by his memory, Captain.”

“I’ll try. Thank you.” He tuned out as Anna and Henry said their goodbyes and wordlessly followed Anna to a waiting car. The driver was unfamiliar; he assumed that the car had been sent by the attorney’s office and was just glad that no one expected him to be able to navigate New York traffic.

“It gets easier.” Anna was smiling, but wiping at her eyes to clear away more tears. “Not for awhile, but eventually.”

“You lost your husband, right?”

She nodded. “He was having lunch when the attack started. The café was destroyed.”

“I’m so sorry.” He stared down at his hands, wondering if there could have been a way to save her husband. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t…that I didn’t.”

She reached out and took his hand. “Don’t apologize. You saved the world. You saved all of us.”

“But not your husband.” The words _or mine_ hung unspoken in the air between them.

Her fingers tightened around his. “It’s okay to feel guilty. It’s okay to be angry. But never forget that he loved you.”

He caught at his wedding band, spinning it slowly around his finger. Loki had never told Steve that he loved him. Then again, Steve hadn’t said it either. He’d assumed they would have more time; that he would have more time to see all of Loki’s sides and learn everything there was to know about him. He thought he’d have time to draw every smile, every frown, every fleeting expression that crossed Loki’s face.

When the car stopped, he was surprised to see that they’d arrived at the monument building. He didn’t think there was any way it wouldn’t be known as the Logan Keyes building now and Loki would’ve hated that. 

“Mr. Hodson’s firm has a satellite office on the fourth floor,” Anna explained. 

“Let me guess, Logan thought it would be more efficient to have his lawyer downstairs.” He hoped she hadn’t noticed the way he’d stumbled over the word Logan. 

“That was Logan.” She smiled as she followed him out of the car. “Would you like me to come with you? I’m happy to stay.”

“No, thank you. You’ve already done so much for me, Anna.”

“If you need anything, you call me.”

“I will, thank you.” He hugged her quickly and shut the car door after she’d gotten back in. 

The building security knew him by name and waved as he entered the atrium. It was impossible not to stop and stare up at the monument. He imagined Loki bent over his blueprints and models, tweaking details until each piece was exactly where he wanted it to be. On an impulse, he walked to the smooth black granite and let his fingers trail over some of the names carved into the surface. Even pretending to be a mere mortal, Loki had been larger than life and unstoppable. 

If only he’d had more time.

His heart and footsteps heavy, he made his way to one of the elevators and took it to the fourth floor. The office spaces were luxurious and elegant. There appeared to be several different law firms represented on the fourth floor. He wandered the hallways until he saw Mr. Hodson’s name printed neatly on a placard on the wall. A voice from inside called out for him to come in when he knocked.

Lyle Hodson got up from his desk and moved around to shake Steve’s hand. “Captain Rogers. Please sit down. I wish the circumstances were different. I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. The funeral was beautiful. Thank you for doing all of that. I couldn’t have.” He settled into one of the leather chairs facing the desk and tried not to fidget nervously. “I’m afraid that I don’t have any experience with, well, anything like this.”

“Not to worry, Captain. I wish all of my clients were as meticulous as Mr. Keyes. He believed in being prepared and always thought of the long term.” Mr. Hodson opened up a drawer and pulled out a heavy folder. “These are all of the documents pertaining to Mr. Keyes account with my firm. With a few exceptions, all of his assets are now yours. He updated his will after your marriage and made sure that you were identified as beneficiary of his holdings.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve said hoarsely.

Mr. Hodson smiled kindly. “There are a few things that I would like to make you aware of today, but we certainly don’t have to go through all of this now.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“He created a trust for Anna Brenner’s children to help finance their college educations. It is a part of a larger trust that he meant to develop into a charitable foundation. He wasn’t able to complete that work, but I know what he intended and I can help you if you wish to finish it.” Mr. Hodson peered down his nose at a document. “Weregeld, he called it. I’m afraid I didn’t quite understand his sense of humor sometimes.”

“Weregeld?”

“It’s an Anglo-Saxon term. If a man was killed, his family could demand and receive payment from his murderer or the murderer’s family. The price of reparation to the family of the slain was called weregeld. Literally, the term means ‘man price’.”

Steve swallowed. He understood perfectly why Loki had chosen that word.

Mr. Hodson shuffled through several more papers. “This building and the penthouse apartment are now yours. Security has keys and access codes if you don’t have them already.”

“I don’t.” He felt like he was spinning even though he was sitting down. He owned a building? He owned _this_ building.

“He also entrusted this to me prior to his trip to California, though he didn’t anticipate that you would need it for some time.” He pulled a large, sealed envelope from the file and placed it on the desk in front of Steve. Loki’s delicate, scrawling handwriting was visible on the thick paper. “As I said before, Mr. Keyes was always one to look toward the long term.”

_For Steve. Open when you are no longer an Avenger._

Steve stared at it as though it might come alive or start on fire. “Do you know what’s inside?”

“I don’t.” Mr. Hodson closed the folder and clasped his hands together on top of it. “Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow. You must be exhausted. You may take this or I can hold onto it.” He motioned to the envelope.

He hadn’t realized just how tired he was until Mr. Hodson mentioned it. “Hold on to it. I think doing this another time is probably a good idea.”

“The rest of Mr. Keyes’ belongings arrived today. You can collect them at the security office as well.”

“His belongings?” Steve asked, confused.

“His luggage was sent ahead on an earlier flight so it was not on the plane. It took some time for it to be properly identified and collected.”

“Oh.” It took him a few seconds to convince his brain to work and tell his body to start moving again. “Tomorrow then? I’ll try not to be completely hopeless with all of this. I don’t want to ruin anything he started.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, you are not alone. I was Mr. Keyes’ lawyer and now, I’m your lawyer.”

“Thank you.” 

He pushed out of the chair and shook Mr. Hodson’s hand again before he left. It took him several minutes to make his way back to the elevator and to the security desk. He’d always been with Loki before so he’d never had reason to have his own key. It only took a few moments to pick up the keys to the penthouse and the access codes he would need to move freely about the entire building. Loki had taken a black duffle bag with him; he slung the strap over his shoulder and signed a form stating that he had taken ownership of it.

It felt surreal to take the elevator by himself. 

Inside the penthouse apartment was silent and still; he felt as though he was trespassing in a place he didn’t belong. He took a seat on the couch and stared out the windows for a long time, watching the shadows deepen as the day waned. When it became too dark to see well, he turned on several of the lamps and set the duffel bag on the coffee table. Steeling himself, he undid the zipper and began to unpack the contents. He carefully folded the clothes as he pulled them out, his hands shaking, and set aside the smaller items.

At the bottom of the bag was a small item wrapped carefully in plastic. There was a hastily scrawled note taped to the plastic; _wedding gift for Steve_. He had to put the package down and take deep breaths for several minutes before he could bring himself to peel away the layers of plastic.

It was a picture frame of simple, dark wood. Beneath the glass was a black and white photograph of him standing beside Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th. His heart skipped and his eyes immediately filled with tears that blurred his vision completely. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. A small piece of paper with numbers written on it was tucked into the corner of the frame; he recognized the numbers as latitude and longitude coordinates.

Weary to the bone, he set the picture frame on the coffee table and curled up on the couch. He pulled one of the soft blankets that Loki seemed to have lying around everywhere and buried his face in the fabric. It smelled of leather and laundry detergent and Loki. His suit would wrinkle and his phone was digging into his side, but he was too tired to care. 

He wished they’d never pulled him out of the ice.

**

Steve didn’t think much of the piece of paper with the numbers for a long time. Months went by and the picture of him and Bucky sat on his nightstand with the piece of paper still there, tucked into the edge of the frame. 

He didn’t think about it because thinking about it meant thinking about Loki.

He was back at Stark Tower, surrounded by friends. He’d locked the door of Loki’s penthouse apartment one day and never looked back, unable to bring himself to stay there for more than a few nights. The empty bed, the empty space, the silence; they were all too much to take. All he took with him were the few things he’d kept there and the picture frame. Sometimes he thought about going back, but knew it would feel like stepping into a perfectly preserved tomb of everything they’d been.

There were times when he woke up in the dead of night, heart pounding, with a voice in his head insisting that it was all wrong. That Loki could not be dead, that a plane crash could not have killed him, and none of it made sense. Something wasn’t right; he would wake up convinced that he had missed something important and he had to figure out what it was.

Another voice would then quietly remind him that Loki was gone and never coming back. 

He didn’t know which one of the voices he hated more.

More often than not, he left his bed, made tea, and then fell asleep on one of the couches with an old movie still playing. One of the others would wake him in the morning and tell him who was trying to destroy the world that day. It felt like he was living the same day over and over again. The press had eventually died down when they realized Steve wasn’t going to do anything entertaining. Every few weeks, one of the gossip magazines ran a piece about how he still wore his wedding ring, but he was no longer the in-demand story and glad of it.

Tony’s voice sounded like rocks grinding together. “We’ve got to stop meeting this way, Cap.”

Steve untwisted himself from the position he’d ended up in on the couch and sat up, trying to work the knots out of his muscles. “Who is it today? HYDRA or AIM?”

“Nothing so far. It’s a beautiful June morning on the Eastern seaboard and we’re thinking about hitting up Coney Island.” Tony held out a mug of steaming hot coffee. “But seriously, either you go see a therapist or Pepper will drive me to needing one myself.”

“I’m fine,” he answered automatically and took the coffee.

“You’re the walking wounded and everyone, including the bad guys, knows it.”

Steve wrapped his fingers around his mug, holding it close and not caring that it was just short of burning his skin. “I’ll be fine.” 

“We need you to be fine at a little bit faster pace than you’re going.” 

Heat flared in his cheeks and throat; he had to take a breath in order to swallow down his anger. That only got him an eye roll from Tony.

“I’m trying to piss you off, Steve. You’re a zombie. No one’s seen you smile or heard you laugh in months. And worse, you’re not angry. I’d be furious.” Tony gestured to the room around him. “If Pepper died, I’d probably wreck this entire building before someone managed to stop me. I’d scream and cry and tell Fate to go fuck itself. You’re just numb and you’ve got to find a way to snap out of it.”

Steve looked away, his mind still fuzzy with sleep and the rest of him felt heavy. He sipped at the coffee. Abstractly, he knew Tony was right; he’d been going through the motions for months without feeling anything at all. He’d rather not feel anything. He’d rather be numb and frozen, as though he was back under the ice and could sleep forever.

For some reason, he thought of the piece of paper with numbers on it.

“If the Avengers have the day off, I need a favor.”

“Name it,” Tony said immediately.

Steve got up from the couch and headed back to his room, telling Tony to wait. He hesitated as he picked up the picture frame, but somehow, this time, it felt right instead of wrong. Returning to the living room, he tugged the piece of paper loose and held it out for Tony to see. “This was in Loki’s luggage. He was probably going to give it to me when he got back to New York. I think those are coordinates but I don’t know where or why he would want me to go there.”

Tony frowned as he eyed the numbers. “This is somewhere in Afghanistan. Not exactly my favorite place.”

“I need to know what’s there.”

“Right. Afghanistan is much nicer than Coney Island this time of year anyway.”

“I just need a ride. I can do this alone--”

“Like hell you can.” Tony gave him a look that made it clear he thought Steve was an idiot. “Kabul’s eight hours and change ahead of us and it’s a fourteen hour flight. We can be there by the time the sun rises over the mountains. Better suit up, just in case. I’ll get the others.”

“Tony.” Steve couldn’t finish the sentence.

With a smile, Tony reached out to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You’d do the same for any of us.”

“Thanks.”

It was the first time he’d felt a sense of excitement in putting on his suit and joining the others. By the time they’d gotten settled into the quinjet and were in the air, he felt almost normal. No one questioned why they were going; they accepted it as calmly as any other mission. Even Fury seemed unruffled when Steve explained where the coordinates had come from and he agreed that whatever was at the location needed to be investigated. Then again, Director Fury saw and heard more strange things in a day than most men did in a lifetime.

Tony’s guess was accurate; they touched down in a wide, flat area of land about an hour after dawn. They were sore and stiff from fourteen hours in the cramped space. Tony disembarked first, muttering about caves, and leapt into the sky to get a good look at their surroundings before they left the relative safety of the jet. Clint settled at the base of the cargo ramp, peering out toward the horizon. There were mountains to their right and a rocky, barren plain spreading out around them. It was little more than brown rock, brown dirt, and dried, brown vegetation. He checked the handheld GPS and nodded toward the mountains.

“Not far from the coordinates. Twenty minute walk, maybe.” He looked back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable with his sunglasses on. “You sure you want to know what’s there, Cap?”

“I need to know,” Steve answered. He shifted his grip on the shield and started down the ramp, eyes on the sky to watch for Tony. Within five minutes, Tony returned in a blaze of blue light and landed just beyond the jet.

“There’s something there alright,” he said as his face mask slid back. “Looks like an abandoned hut but there’s electricity, a lot of it, running through the ground beneath it. There must be generators of some kind. Didn’t see any security or men with guns. They must be relying on the fact that we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“We should still be careful. Everyone, watch your step,” Steve cautioned. “Tony, stay in the air until we know it’s clear.”

They moved at a steady pace, but not hard enough that Bruce couldn’t keep up. He preferred to keep the Other Guy waiting until absolutely necessary. Dropping down a slight embankment, the abandoned hut that Tony had seen came into view. There were three walls still standing; the fourth and most of the roof had caved in. Steve motioned for Natasha and Clint to move to the sides, checking out the perimeter as they went. Even if there was no active security, there could still be passive countermeasures.

Once they’d swept the surrounding area and found nothing, they met at the front entry of the tumble down structure. There was no door, only a gaping hole that led into the shadowed interior. Tony landed behind them.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Natasha said quietly. She pulled a flashlight from her belt and shone it into the darkness as they stepped inside. “Are you sure this is the location?”

“I’m sure,” Clint answered, holding up the GPS unit so she could see.

There was nothing inside, not even broken furniture or any sign that any creature other than wild animals had been there. Steve frowned, looking around for anything that would tell him why Loki had written down those numbers. They all moved slowly, carefully, through the small space. Steve had just about given up, thinking he must’ve misinterpreted the numbers and they weren’t really coordinates, when he heard the tenor of Tony’s footsteps change.

“Tony, hold still.”

Tony froze. “Is there a bee on me?”

“Take a step back.” The boot of the suit made a dull thud as it hit the ground. “Now a step forward.” There. The sound was hollow, as though the rock beneath had changed.

“Is this the hokey pokey or the time warp?” Tony asked, hands out as he waited for Steve to continue.

“There’s something beneath you.” Steve motioned for him to move aside and waved Natasha forward. 

The beam of the flashlight revealed dirt and rocks. He felt along the ground and discovered what felt like a regular pattern beneath a couple inches of dirt. It was too regular to be natural, he thought. He dug at the dirt and gradually revealed a metal circle that looked like a manhole cover. There were no markings, only a slot barely large enough for him to slide his fingers in and grip. Metal scraped against metal and dust spilled down into the widening hole as he hoisted the plate away. There were ladder rungs on one side, descending down into darkness.

“Pretty sure I’m not going to fit,” Tony said, peering down into the darkness. “Not in the suit anyway.”

“You say up here, keep your eyes and ears open.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Bruce looked a little nervous. “If you need me, or the Other Guy, let me know.”

Steve nodded. “Good idea.” He eased one leg into to the hole, catching his foot on one of the rungs, and then the other. It was a tight fit; his shoulders brushed against the sides as he started carefully down the ladder. 

He lost count of the rungs but figured they’d dropped at least fifty feet by the time his feet hit solid ground beneath him. Feeling his way in the darkness, he got out of the way and waited for Clint and Natasha to reach the bottom. Natasha moved the light over the walls, revealing a side tunnel only slightly less narrow than the channel they’d climbed down. She pulled one of her handguns from her belt and held it up, the flashlight pressed against the barrel, and started down the passageway. 

As they crept through the darkness, Steve began to hear a distant but steady thrum of a generator. The air was still and musty, adding to the claustrophobic feeling of the place. After what felt much longer than five minutes, they reached a plain, unmarked door. It was locked, but it took Natasha less than a minute to pick the lock. The door led to a room no less still and musty, but obviously larger than the narrow passage. There was scattered blue light that seemed to be coming from shadowed pieces of electrical equipment. Natasha swung her light around, searching the walls, until she found a bank of light switches.

Fluorescent lights buzzed to life above them. It was immediately apparent that they were in a laboratory of some kind. Tables along the walls were piled with monitors and other equipment; tubing and conduit ran along the walls and ceiling. Nearly all of the tubing ran toward a vertical cylinder at the end of the room. It was over six feet tall, about four feet wide, and appeared to be covered in a layer of frost. An LED display panel on the front showed a green status light.

Steve moved forward cautiously and scraped his gloves over the cylinder to remove the layer of ice. There was glass beneath and behind that, a man.

“Is that who I think it is?” Natasha whispered at his side. 

Clint let out a low whistle. “Fury’s gonna love this.”

Steve knew his voice would shake if he opened his mouth and tried to speak. It felt as though his heart was going to tear itself apart inside his chest. 

Loki’s wedding gift was the Winter Soldier.

**

SHIELD had to come in to dig up and disassemble the lab. Once Bruce and Tony had taken a look at the cryogenic stasis chamber that held Bucky, they’d decided it was too risky to try to remove him there. They brought in a cargo plane and moved the entire lab, piece by piece, and kept the stasis chamber stable. It would go to a SHIELD facility where they could figure out how to safely reawaken Bucky and bring him back from the ice. They couldn’t tell much about his physical health, other than one of his arms appeared to be mechanical rather than human, and it could be months before they would be able to know for sure.

Steve tucked the piece of paper with the coordinates back into the picture frame when he returned to the tower. He sat on his bed for a long time before he reached for his phone and called Loki’s number. It went straight to voicemail; the cell phone had never been recovered from the wreckage of the plane. He heard Loki’s voice.

“Leave a message.” Beep.

“Hi,” he said, self-conscious. “We found him. We found Bucky. Thank you. And…and I miss you. I’m sorry I never.” He stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry that I never told you that I loved you.”

That night was the first time he joined the rest of the team for dinner since New Year’s Eve. Even Pepper was there and it was crowded, but comfortable, around the table.

Tony stopped them halfway through the meal and held up his glass. “I propose a toast.”

Clint groaned. “What to this time? Your ego?”

“To us. Together again.” He waved his glass in Steve’s direction. “Glad to have you back, Cap.”

Steve felt the ache in his chest ease just slightly. He picked up his water glass and held it up, clinking it against the others’ glasses as well. It felt easier to be with them than it had in months and he even caught himself laughing at one of Clint’s stories.

He slept the entire night in his own bed with no nightmares.

A month later, Tony threw him a birthday party. Stark Tower still had one of the best views of the Fourth of July fireworks in the whole city. Steve invited Anna and her children. Sophie threw her arms around his neck, called him Uncle Steve, and gave him a kiss.

“Sorry,” Anna said, shaking her head a little. “They used to call Logan uncle and when I explained that you were his husband, she was so excited to have another one.”

“Uncle Logan,” Tony commented, his voice strangled. He shook himself visibly and noticed Justin looking at one of the hologram displays Tony had left up. “Want to know how that works?”

Steve smiled and scooped Sophie up into his arms. “It’s fine. How have you been doing?”

“Good.” Her eyes were wide as she took in Tony’s penthouse. “I never thought I’d see the inside of this place.” She paused, watching as Tony showed off how his hologram system worked and told Justin about JARVIS.

“I’m glad you could come.” 

He spent most of the evening playing games with Sophie. She was fast asleep long before the fireworks began. Steve settled her in his room where it would be quieter and she wouldn’t be disturbed. Once the fireworks were over and they had all eaten too much cake, Anna went to rouse Sophie and get her ready to go home.

Sophie was rubbing her eyes as Anna carried her out of the bedroom and looking around with confusion. “Uncle Logan?”

Anna’s expression immediately turned to worry. “Sophie, sweetie. You know that Uncle Logan is in heaven now, like Daddy. Remember, we talked about this?” She gave Steve an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. She’s too young to really understand.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said and realized that he meant it. “Just a second, I’ll be right back.” He hurried to his room and opened up the desk drawer full of his sketchbooks. It only took him a few moments to find what he was looking for; a sketch of Loki with a broad, genuine smile on his face. He ripped it gently out of the book and hurried back. He held up the sketch for Sophie to see. “It’s yours, if you’d like to keep it, Sophie.”

She reached out to touch it, her small fingers grasping the edges of the paper. Anna shifted Sophie in her arms. “Are you sure, Steve? It’s a beautiful drawing, I’d hate for it to be ruined.”

“I have more.” 

“I’m sure that I have an envelope or something,” Pepper offered. “At least it’ll get home in one piece that way.” 

“Thank you.” Anna wrapped one arm around him and gave him a hug. “Don’t be a stranger, Steve, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise.” He pressed a kiss against Sophie’s curls and then held her while Anna carefully tucked the picture of Loki away in a Stark Industries envelope Pepper had found. He ruffled Justin’s hair affectionately on the way to the door. Tony convinced Anna to think about looking into an early science and engineering outreach program and decide if it might be a good fit for Justin.

Once the door closed, Tony looked at Steve strangely. “Uncle Logan? They seem like a perfectly normal family.”

Steve shrugged. “He was trying to understand what it meant to be human, Tony. I think that’s why he created Logan Keyes.”

“A monster playing at being a man,” Bruce said softly. He was standing behind them, watching. “How do you think she’d feel if she knew the truth? If she knew who Loki really was?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly. “How do you weigh the bad he did against the good? How does anyone? The Loki I knew was nothing like the Loki who brought the Chitauri here. Nothing.” The fingers of his right hand moved to the wedding band on his left. “He wanted to make it right, even if he didn’t know how.”

Bruce considered that for a moment and nodded. “I guess I can’t really throw stones.”

“Pretty sure you could throw the Brooklyn Bridge if you wanted to,” Tony said. “However. The kids are gone so the real party can begin. I saved something special just for you, Cap.”

Stark Tower received more than a five thousand noise complaints the next day for the gigantic firework display that exploded above the tower. The bursting lights formed an enormous Captain America shield that lit up the night sky above the city and rained ash for six square blocks. 

It was the best birthday Steve had had in a very long time.

They spent the rest of July chasing after HYDRA agents. SHIELD had intelligence that they were trying to build an energy source, but the intel wasn’t enough to get a picture of what was going on.

Later that summer, he found Peggy Carter’s address and paid her a visit, pretending not to notice how tired and frail she seemed. For nearly one hundred years old, she was doing remarkably well. He made a promise to visit her every week and he did, right up to the week she had her first stroke. Then, he visited her in the hospital and read to her while she drifted in and out of consciousness. 

The leaves turned red and gold and the nights grew cold. 

Before September was over, she passed away peacefully in her sleep and Steve said goodbye for the last time. Mr. Hodson helped him arrange the funeral and take care of the details. All of Peggy’s immediate family and her friends had preceded her; the services were small and intimate. There were no reporters. 

He called Loki’s cell phone after the services were over.

“Leave a message.” Beep.

“Hi, it’s Steve. Peggy’s gone. It seems strange.” He almost laughed out loud at himself. “No stranger than calling someone’s cell phone and leaving messages they’ll never hear. I just wanted to say, I miss you. And I love you.”

Doom attacked the Baxter building around Halloween; Steve ended up in the SHIELD infirmary with his ears ringing and having glass shards dug out of his back. He had the last laugh a week later when one of Doom’s experiments went wrong and blew up half of his castle in Latveria.

Thursday night became game night at Stark Tower. They rotated through the games because there was always one of the team who dominated at their favorite game. Tony couldn’t beat Natasha at Scrabble even when he cheated and no one ever beat Bruce at Settlers of Catan. Steve didn’t really try to win; he enjoyed the laughter and the company more than anything. It felt like home again, it felt like family. Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt as though he had crawled out from under a dark cloud that had been threatening to swallow him whole.

He still wore his wedding ring. It would be a long time before it felt right to take it off, but he had accepted that. What he’d felt for Loki had been intensely overpowering and, despite the pangs of heartache that remained, part of him was glad that his life was still and quiet again. He called Loki’s phone periodically and left messages, usually only a few words, when something happened that he wished he could’ve shared with Loki. 

When he turned his calendar to the month of December, he stared at the days for a long time. It would be his first Christmas without Loki in three years. 

He finally read the book on grieving that Pepper had given him after Loki’s funeral.

**

The call came in the middle of a frigid December night. HYDRA had targeted a nuclear power generating station. The team scrambled and they were on the ground in less than an hour. Evacuations of the site had already begun, but HYDRA agents had taken over the control room and temperatures in the core of the reactor were already rising dangerously.

“What are they doing?” Even from inside the suit, it was obvious that Tony was scowling. 

“Maybe they’re trying to cause a core meltdown deliberately,” Bruce suggested.

“Crazy. Why do we have to deal with the crazy people?” Tony said, disgusted. “Right, what’s the plan?”

Steve stepped up, pulling on his gloves. “First, we’ve got to get in there and stop whatever they’re doing. Getting the cooling systems back online if we can. Tony, I’m going to need you to get in there. How will your suit hold up against the radiation?”

“Good enough.”

“Okay. Clint, Natasha, you’re the most vulnerable to radiation, stay back and give us cover fire. I doubt HYDRA will let us walk in. Bruce, you’re on standby in case we get stuck and need to make a hole in a hurry.” 

They’d barely gotten through the perimeter when HYDRA agents opened fire. Tony blasted a way through while Clint and Natasha kept any enemies from falling in behind them and shooting them in the back. Once they got through the doors, they met a dozen more HYDRA agents and took them down as well.

“Something isn’t right, Cap,” Tony said after he’d blown open a door. “JARVIS is showing the temperatures rising. We don’t have much time. These guys are driving this place to meltdown. This is a suicide mission for them.”

Steve kept going grimly. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of what would happen or all of the innocent lives that would be affected. They fought their way into the control room. Steve grimaced when he saw that the HYDRA agents had lined up the men and women who worked in the control room and executed them. He thought of the war; he thought of Red Skull. Alongside Tony, he scanned the controls and tried to figure out what HYDRA’s purpose had been.

“Captain, Stark!” Fury’s voice came through the communication piece in Steve’s ear. “I need you to pull out immediately.”

“Negative, sir,” Steve answered. “If we don’t get this place under control, a lot of people are going to die.”

“The power plant was the diversion, they’ve attacked--” Fury’s voice cut out.

Tony swore. “See that cabinet there, by the door? There should be instructions for emergency shutdown.”

Steve ripped the drawer clear out of the cabinet, catching it just before it crashed to the ground and spilled the contents onto the floor. He searched through the binders and bound manuals, hunting for anything that would help them. Finally, he found the right one and hurried back to the control panels. He flipped it open and scanned through the pages while Tony tried to reconnect with SHIELD and the Helicarrier.

“I can do this, Tony,” Steve said without looking up.

“Yeah, right. You can barely work a microwave.”

“It’s got pictures.” Steve lifted the book to show him. “At least go check on the others and find out what’s going on. I can do this.”

“I’m giving you one minute, no more.”

Steve bent over the manual. He hadn’t been completely lying. There were pictures and the instructions seemed easy enough for him to follow. At least, for now. He identified the panels that he needed, the gauges that he needed to watch, and which buttons mattered. Both cooling systems were blinking red, indicating they were offline. He followed the instructions to perform diagnostics so the system could tell him what was wrong. Sweat slid down the side of his face and he stripped away the mask so he could keep it out of his eyes. The computer came back with a report of physical damage to solenoids and identified their location.

“Tony? Anyone? Can you hear me?” He waited for a second, holding his breath.

“We hear you, Cap,” Natasha answered.

“The computer is telling me what’s wrong. I think HYDRA sabotaged the cooling systems. I might be able to fix it.”

“Get out of there, Cap. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ve got to try.” He returned to the ruined filing cabinet and dug through the materials again, pulling out a heavy binder labeled Cooling System. 

“Cap,” Tony’s voice was full of static. “HYDRA just hit Washington. Fury was right, this was a distraction. They’ve attacked the White House. We need you out here.”

Steve’s heart sank. “Tony, I can’t.” He ran to the wall, frantically trying to memorize the map of the facility and where he needed to go.

“There’s nothing we can do, Steve.”

“I can’t just give up.” Frustrated, he hit the door marked Maintenance running and barreled down the stairs and into the tunnel.

“I’m coming back in and if I have to haul you out, I will.”

“Tony, go. You’re the only one of us who can fly. You can get to Washington faster than any of us.” He rounded a corner and checked his bearings against his mental map.

“Steve,” Tony faded into static again before coming back. “Once it reaches critical temperatures, you will have seconds before it’s too late to get out. This place will be nothing more than a pile of concrete.”

“Unless I can stop it.” Steve pushed on with determination. “Tony, get out of here. Get everyone out and to a safe distance. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

There was no answer. He didn’t know if it was because communication had been lost again or if Tony had listened to him and left for Washington. He forced himself to focus only on the task in front of him. The first damaged solenoid was surprisingly easy to identify. It had clearly been sabotaged and forced closed to prevent the flow of water to the cooling system. He didn’t hope to understand how to fix it. The choice left to him was to find whatever he could and force the valve open manually.

His heart was racing and the air felt hotter than a hundred degrees by the time he’d found a sturdy length of metal, broke open enough of the valve casing to get to it, and manually forced the mechanism that controlled the valve. He heard the sound of water beginning to flow and breathed a sigh of relief.

“One down,” he panted. 

He grabbed the binder and the metal rod, racing through the tunnels for where the computer had said the second solenoid was. This one had been more heavily damaged than the first, which benefited Steve because it was easier to tear into the valve casing and get to the mechanism. Sweat stung his eyes and his muscles ached, but he managed to wrench the second one open as well. He raced back through the tunnels to the control room and the manual left open on the control panel. Wiping at his eyes, he frowned at the manual and struggled to get through the next steps.

“Cap? Cap!” Natasha’s voice came through in snippets of sound. “Get out of there!”

“I just need a few more minutes.”

“You don’t have a few minutes, Steve. Please! If you get out right now, you might have a chance.” 

The desperation in her voice cut through his determination and he looked up at the control panel, seeing the flashing warnings on the displays. Even with the cooling systems back online, it was too late. He stared, mesmerized at the red lights flashing in front of him. Alarms shrieked through the building. 

It was too late.

He shook and felt sick, but finally pulled himself away from the control panel and ran. Halfway down the hallway, something caught his ankle and sent him sprawling over the floor. One of the HYDRA agents, still clinging to life, showed bloody teeth as he grinned in sick triumph. He didn’t have to speak for Steve to understand that he wanted to slow him down enough that he would be caught in the impending explosion. Steve kicked out at the man, shaking his ankle free, and scrambling to get back onto his feet. He heard the gunshot before he registered the tearing pain in his back and side. He dropped to his knees; blood was spreading over his side and his fingers were slick with blood when he touched his back. He was losing feeling in his legs; he couldn’t tell for sure where the bullet had hit.

This was the end. He found himself strangely at peace with the idea.

Forcing his body to move, he pulled himself out of the line of fire of the HYDRA agent. At least he could try not to get shot again. He ended up against the wall near one of the bodies of an employee who had been cut down when HYDRA took over the plant. Her cell phone was still in her hand.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he tugged it from her fingers. He was unsteady as he tapped the screen, smearing blood with each touch. He finished dialing and held the phone up to his ear.

“Leave a message.” Beep.

“Hey, it’s me.” He let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. His side was on fire and the rest of him was ice. “I think this is the end of the road and I…I just wanted to hear your voice one last time.” It was hard to swallow and his voice fell to a whisper. “I love you.”

He let the phone fall from his fingers and down his chest. It clattered to the floor. He winced when he looked down and saw a pool of blood beneath him. When he looked up again, he saw Loki in full Asgardian armor and leather standing above him, his curved horn helmet reaching to the sky.

“Am I dead?” Steve asked.

“I got your message.” Loki’s face was pale and his lips were set into a thin line as he knelt down beside Steve. Strong fingers tugged at the fabric of his uniform as he felt out the wounds in his side and back. “You’re bleeding out. This will hurt.”

Steve was still reeling, his foggy brain trying to figure out if he was hallucinating or if he’d already died. Maybe he’d passed out and this was a dream. Pain lanced through him; he gritted his teeth and groaned. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the HYDRA agent who’d shot him crawl into view. Before his mind could process the need to form words, Loki reached down and took hold of the sleek, black and silver staff at his side. With a sharp gesture, green fire exploded from the end of the staff and the HYDRA agent died screaming.

Definitely not a dream.

“You bastard,” Steve said through clenched teeth.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “We need to go.” He took hold of Steve’s wrist and hauled him up, pulling his arm around his shoulders.

“You let me believe you were dead.” Steve panted against the pain. His whole body was shaking; he could taste and smell blood.

“You have been frustratingly difficult to convince.”

The world spun and fell away from beneath his feet. When it returned, he was standing outside the reactor. Winter cold bit at him and he could see the billows of steam rising from the cooling towers as the water evaporated, leaving the core racing toward a meltdown.

“The reactor,” he said hoarsely. 

“It is too far gone,” Loki answered. “You need medical attention.”

“There has to be a way.” Steve struggled to pull forward a memory. “You froze one of Doom’s robots. In New York. Can you do that again?”

“This is beyond me,” Loki answered; there was hesitation in his voice.

“But you know a way.” Steve stumbled and fell. His weight forced Loki to stop and ease him to the ground. He choked and coughed against the cold air, seeing blood spray against the concrete. Loki wasn’t wrong; he was dying.

“Do not ask me to do this. You do not know the price of what you ask,” Loki’s voice was hard and sharp, with the barest hint of desperation creeping in. “Leave this all behind, come with me. What does it matter once we’re gone? Your friends left you here to die with the others.”

Steve rolled to his side, his breathing labored. “These people are all that matters.”

Loki’s expression shifted to calculating. “If I were to do this, would you forgive me the deception of my death?”

“No,” Steve said flatly. “But no one has to die just because we need marriage counseling. Either help me save them or leave me here.”

“You will die if you stay.”

“It’s my choice, Loki. I can’t go with you, I’m sorry.” He hoped he didn’t sound as terrified and sick as he felt; hoped that Loki couldn’t hear in his voice how it tore him apart to not choose him. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and be back in the apartment at the monument building, Loki in his arms, and put everything behind them. But he couldn’t. “This is my choice.”

Loki looked as though Steve had stabbed him through the chest; the pain, raw and sharp, was clear in his eyes and face. But he nodded and stood up, turning to face the reactor. His hands rolled in a circular gesture and the air shimmered between them. A box made of metal and crystal and glowing with a blue light appeared. When Loki’s hands closed around handles on the sides of the box, his skin began to turn blue. The roar of sudden, impossible wind forced Steve to turn away, shielding his face from the shrieking cold that tore free from the box in Loki’s hands.

Ice spread over the ground in front of them and kept going. It felt as though the sun had vanished and all of the warmth had been sucked from the air and the earth around him. He watched as the blue continued to spread until all of Loki’s skin was a deep sapphire. The ice kept growing.

Steve didn’t have the strength to move or speak. All he could do was slump to the ground and watch as the world turned to ice around him. He watched Loki, soaking in the details of his skin and armor; he realized that part of him had always known he was still alive. He was furious. Or, at least, he would be furious when he had recovered enough to have the energy to be furious. He didn’t know why Loki had created the elaborate ruse of his death and he didn’t care. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to never let Loki go again.

The silence, when it ended, was almost as deafening as the howling wind.

Loki’s hands moved again and the box vanished. He turned around very slowly. Steve saw raised markings on his blue skin; his eyes had turned from green to blood red. The blue began to fade immediately, but even as the red faded away, Steve saw a bright, dangerous fury in Loki’s eyes. 

“Is it safe?” Steve whispered. 

“Yes.” Loki glanced up sharply when the sound of an aircraft engine cut through the air. “Now you have seen the kind of monster I truly am. The kind of monster I will always be. You may tell Barton that he has succeeded beyond his wildest imagination.”

Steve winced, trying to pull himself back into a seated position and failing. “What does Clint have to do with this?”

“Consider my peace with your Realm at an end, Captain Rogers,” Loki snarled. His hands were clenched at his sides; he looked wild and desperate. “I no longer have any reason to pretend to be anything I am not.” 

Then he was gone, leaving Steve shivering and confused in a wasteland of ice. He thought he heard voices and saw the blurred shapes of people moving toward him. Unable to hold his head up any longer, he sunk down to the ground and closed his eyes, waiting for the darkness to take him. A single thought continued to blaze like fire in his mind; Loki was alive.

**

Loki returned with a vengeance, but he didn’t go after the Avengers or SHIELD. 

He went after HYDRA.

A week later, on a dark and dreary Christmas morning, all the Avengers but Steve gathered in the penthouse of Stark Tower. Director Fury and Agent Hill joined them and watched as Tony pulled details up onto his holographic displays. News reports, SHIELD reports, video surveillance; everything and anything they’d been able to get their hands on.

Tony raked his fingers through his hair. “That’s everything for the past five days.”

“We’ve got no reason to believe he’ll stop anytime soon,” Director Fury said. He leaned back in his chair. “I suppose his death was too good to be true.”

With an angry scowl, Tony stalked toward the bar. It didn’t sit right with him, none of it did. They’d come back to find Steve unconscious on a sheet of ice. He’d been shot and only the ice against the wounds had kept him from bleeding to death long enough for his enhanced healing to begin to repair the damage. He would still be in a hospital bed for weeks as his system fought its way back from excessive radiation exposure.

They only had one explanation for how the entire power plant had been turned into a block of ice cold enough to stop a nuclear meltdown and that was a single word: Loki. It still hadn’t thawed out enough for them to get inside and recover the bodies of the plant employees. 

“He’s only going after HYDRA targets,” Bruce pointed out.

“For now,” Fury agreed.

Tony dumped ice into a tumbler with more force than necessary. “Do we know why Loki faked his death? Anyone have any theories?”

“Maybe just to get out of the spotlight,” Fury suggested. “Maybe to lull us into thinking he was no longer a threat.”

“Come on!” Tony shouted, unable to hold his temper any longer. “Look at this! Does this look like an attempt to take over the world to you?” He splashed a liberal amount of scotch into his glass and stalked back to the displays. “HYDRA research laboratory burned to the ground, no survivors. HYDRA safe house, again, no survivors. But no one and nothing that isn’t HYDRA was harmed. There wasn’t a scratch on any surrounding buildings.”

“And?” Fury said, crossing his arms.

“He’s going after HYDRA for a reason. This isn’t willy-nilly destruction, Fury. He’s pissed off and he’s going after the people who pissed him off.” He swallowed down a mouthful of scotch. “If you go after Loki with everything you’ve got, you will lose. We will lose.”

“You sound pretty sure that you know what he’s doing.”

Tony met Fury’s gaze evenly. He pointed to the images flashing around them. “This? This is one very pissed off God who went to a hell of a lot of trouble to make everyone think he was dead and the only thing that brought him out of hiding was Steve getting shot and lying on the ground, dying, at the power plant. So, Steve lives, the power plant miraculously doesn’t go Chernobyl on us, and the people responsible get their asses handed to them Asgard style.”

“We can’t let him continue his attacks.”

“Like hell we can’t! He’s doing what anyone would do if someone nearly killed the man they loved; he’s tearing them apart.”

“Innocent people--”

“Haven’t gotten hurt,” Tony interrupted fiercely. “Not one. Not even a goddamn building. There was a parking meter in Germany that was damaged. A fucking parking meter. Loki’s after HYDRA because of Steve. This is personal.”

“How personal can it be if he let Steve believe he was dead for a year?” Fury shook his head. “I’m not saying I don’t agree, but I can’t let a loose cannon like Loki keep bouncing around this planet.” He sighed and looked to the others, who had remained silent while he and Tony argued. “Can I assume you all agree with Tony?”

A bright flash of lightning was followed by a crack of thunder outside the tower windows. Tony rolled his eyes and headed for the door, holding it open. “It’s about goddamn time you got your ass down here!” he shouted through the sudden rain and wind.

Thor’s expression was troubled when he stepped inside. “My friends, I have come with dire tidings. It is my brother, Loki.”

“Get in line,” Tony muttered into his scotch. 

“He took the Casket of Ancient Winters from the weapons vault. I do not know how or why, but this is very serious.”

“This casket doesn’t happen to freeze things, does it?” Bruce asked.

Thor hesitated. “It unleashes the very cold of Niflheim, of death itself. It has the power to freeze your entire Realm.”

“Or one nuclear power plant about to go critical.” Tony shook his head with irritation. “And where were you when your brother got married? Did you think about showing up then?”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “I do not understand. Married?”

Tony pressed his glass against his temple. “JARVIS, roll footage.” The displays snapped from the reports of Loki’s devastation of HYDRA to the news and entertainment reports of Steve and Loki’s elopement, complete with images of them kissing in front of the courthouse.

Thor’s eyes widened. “How is this possible?”

“That is actually the part of this entire mess that makes the most sense.” Tony settled into a chair, cradling his scotch.  
“Someone, other than me, explain to our Mighty Avenger what his little brother’s been up to for the past five years. And don’t skip the part where he built us a fucking monument; that’s my favorite.”

**

Steve dreamed of Loki.

He dreamed that it was Christmas morning and they were in the penthouse apartment of Memorial Tower. There was a Christmas tree with red, white, and blue ornaments and presents beneath wrapped up in glittering paper. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, still steaming, and he was watching the view outside the windows. Instead of New York, he saw a strange, dark world of ice and giants. He watched, transfixed as Thor and Loki arrived, four others came with them. There was a battle and an enormous creature bounding across the snow; he saw it unfold as though he was watching a movie. 

“What is this?” he asked Loki. His voice sounded far away and hollow.

“The truth,” Loki answered. He stood beside the window, staring out as though he was looking into a different world. “The secrets I do not even admit to myself. That is what this cursed glass reveals.”

Brilliant light drove down from the sky and began to rip through ice and stone, tearing the strange world apart. Steve clutched his coffee, unable to move as he watched blue-skinned giants flee the utter destruction of the energy beam. “What’s happening?”

“Midgard was not the first Realm that I sought to destroy. The first was my home. My true home.” 

“Is this a dream?”

“Perhaps.” Loki stirred and turned away from the window. “Would you like it to be?”

Steve pulled his eyes away from the horror the glass was showing him and returned to the couch. He focused on the Christmas tree and the light shining from its branches. He noticed that the light from the Christmas tree didn’t quite reach Loki, leaving him in shadow. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. How could you do this to me? Why? Did I mean anything to you? Was it even real?” his voice broke. He wanted to ask Loki to come closer, to sit beside him on the couch and watch the lights on the Christmas tree. He was angry, furious, but he still ached to feel Loki against him.

“I am Loki, whose tongue was an anvil on which the sharpest lies were forged. I am Loki, who you must not trust.”

“Stop it. I know who you are. I know you.” He squinted and realized that Loki was becoming harder to see as the shadows crept in and began to wreath around him. In moments, Loki would be lost to the darkness completely. He let the coffee mug fall from his fingers and reached out, trying to feel his way through the shadow. For an instant, he caught Loki’s hand and held fast, but even that slipped away.

Then there was only darkness.

He was vaguely aware that people came to visit him, wherever he was. There was soft light and the hum of machinery. Every now and then, he caught the sound of voices around him. Tony, Natasha; he thought he heard Thor’s voice once. He couldn’t hold onto consciousness for very long and slipped back into dreams.

“Come back to bed.”

Steve turned and saw Loki stretched out like a cat on the wide bed of their apartment. His skin was too pale and his hair was long again, falling to his shoulders. Steve left the window and climbed back into the bed. He wove his fingers into Loki’s hair, pulling him closer. Loki’s hands moved over his arms, shoulders, and danced along his back. It felt like a lifetime since he’d tasted Loki’s lips against his; he caught hungrily at them with his teeth and tongue. He pressed closer, wanting more, wanting to feel more and slid his hand down to grip Loki’s hip.

“Why did you leave me?” he asked breathlessly, between kisses.

“It does not matter here. This is just a dream.” Loki tugged at his hair and tipped Steve’s head back. Lips and teeth brushed down the line of his neck, teasing; Steve felt the tension building in his lower back and pulled harder at Loki’s hips. 

“Loki.” As Steve said his name, the pain came pouring back in and he froze. He tightened his arms around Loki, nearly crushing him against his chest. He thought of the news report of the plane crash, of seeing Loki’s body in the morgue, of the funeral and struggling to understand all of the business and numbers that Loki had left behind. His breath caught in his throat; he couldn’t keep the tears from coming and buried his face against Loki’s hair.

“Steve,” Loki whispered.

“I can’t.” Steve felt wretched and torn. “I can’t do this. I can’t lose you again.”

Long fingers stroked gently along his arm. “This is your dream.”

Steve closed his eyes tightly. “Then lie to me. You’re good at that. If this is my dream, tell me that you love me.”

“My love for you is madness and it will destroy us both.”

“Tell me you love me,” Steve repeated stubbornly.

Loki pressed his lips against Steve’s cheek, his breath warm. “Until the end of the Nine Realms, until the Gods fall at Ragnarok and, even after that, when there is nothing left of me but a ghost, I will love you still.”

Then there was only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line - “I am Loki, whose tongue was an anvil on which the sharpest lies were forged. I am Loki, who you must not trust.” - was shamelessly stolen (borrowed) from Kieron Gillen's Journey into Mystery arc. It is brilliant! And not mine.


	7. Christmas the Sixth

When Steve finally woke completely and opened his eyes, it took several minutes for him to recognize the medical lab that was part of Bruce’s domain in Stark Tower. There were two IVs in his right arm and he was dressed only in a pale blue hospital gown. He stared down at the blanket over his legs and the sides of the hospital bed. It all seemed alien to him.

For a long time, he laid there, not wanting to move. There didn’t seem to be anyone watching him or waiting for him to wake up. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep; hopefully not as long as last time.

His body was stiff and unresponsive when he tried to move. It wasn’t hard to disconnect the IVs and remove the needles. His head spun a little when he swung his legs over the side of the bed. At least he wouldn’t have to go far to get real clothes. Gripping the back of a chair for support, he got to his feet and waited for the dizziness to pass. He felt his side and back, expecting bandages, but there was barely a scar where the bullet had passed through him. He’d been asleep for a week at least, then, he thought as he started unsteadily forward.

The lab was dark and the only source of movement was the helper robots as they went about their tasks. By the time he reached the elevator, his legs felt steadier and the shaking was beginning to fade. He barely swayed on the ride up to the residential floor. It was a relief to strip away the flimsy hospital gown and get into a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt. 

“JARVIS?” he asked.

“How may I assist you, sir?”

Steve felt better hearing another voice, even JARVIS’. “Where is everyone?”

“In the penthouse suite, sir.”

“Thanks.” He dug a pair of tennis shoes out of the closet and pulled them on. He needed to find out what had happened at the power plant and while he’d been asleep. Hopefully the entire world hadn’t gone insane, again.

“Thor is here, sir.”

An invisible vise clamped down around Steve’s chest. _You do not know the price of what you ask_ , Loki had said. At the time, Steve hadn’t understood and hadn’t cared. Whatever Loki had done with the strange box full of blue light must’ve been enough to get the attention of Asgard when nothing else had. He padded out of his room and back down the hallway to the elevators. “How long have I been asleep, JARVIS?”

“Three weeks.”

He’d missed Christmas and New Years, but at least it had still been measured in weeks. The elevator doors closed and he leaned back on his heels, trying to sort through his memories of the last moments at the power plant.

_You may tell Barton that he has succeeded beyond his wildest imagination._

Steve frowned. Why would Loki say that? It didn’t make sense. Clint had believed Loki to be dead along with everyone else. A sick feeling began to coil at the bottom of his stomach as he remembered the night of the memorial unveiling. He hadn’t thought much about it afterward, he’d been too wrapped up in Loki to give it much thought. But there had been a moment; he’d been sure that Clint’s arrow was heading straight for him and then, in an instant, there was no arrow and Loki was shaking Clint’s hand as though they’d made a deal. Suspicion latched and began to take root.

The elevator opened to reveal Tony’s penthouse and all eyes turned to him. He looked for Clint.

“Cap!” Tony pulled away from the display he was working at. “You’re awake. Welcome back,” he stopped when Steve started out of the elevator. “Are you okay? Maybe you should lie down?”

Steve rounded the couch and reached down to grab hold of Clint’s vest. He hauled Clint bodily off of the couch, lifting him into the air.

“Steve! What are you doing?” Natasha reached for his arm, worried.

“You knew,” Steve snarled, shaking Clint just enough to be sure he had his attention. “You knew Loki was alive. All this time, you knew.”

“Cap, it’s not what you think,” Clint said, his voice level and calm.

“What did you do?” Steve demanded.

“What I had to do.”

Steve let Clint fall to the couch and turned his back, walking away before his temper convinced him to do something he would regret. He felt sick to his stomach. That night, he’d seen that Loki was fragile and unsure; that he could go a dozen different directions depending on how things played out. Steve thought he could save him; he’d thought he had saved him. They’d been happy, together, for a few days, and he’d thought that was enough. He remembered the sadness in Loki’s eyes and his fear that it would come to an end.

Suddenly breathless, Steve grabbed for something to steady himself. His thoughts raced as the pieces began to fall into place. The plane crash. He knew, intuitively and with complete certainty, that if he went looking, he would discover that flight had never existed. It had all been an illusion, like the image of the Shire that Loki had created in the guest bedroom at Tony's mansion; Loki's version of a movie.

“Clint,” Natasha’s voice was low and dangerous. “Tell us what happened.”

“I asked him a question, that’s all,” Clint answered calmly, unruffled. “I asked him if he thought his life was worth Steve’s. If he was willing to watch Steve die trying to protect him. Come on, we all know that’s how it would’ve ended and so did he. I didn’t know he was going to fake his death, that was his choice. It didn’t matter how he left, just that he did.”

“That’s a dick move, Barton, and you know it,” Tony said harshly.

Steve pressed his face into his hands. Of course, Clint had known which buttons to push; Clint always knew what buttons to push. With Loki, he would’ve gone for what he knew would hurt the most and what would drive him away. And Loki would’ve thought that his death was the kindest way to leave Steve; it was the only way that he could’ve been sure Steve wouldn’t come after him.

“Captain Rogers.” Thor sounded far less sure of himself than usual. 

“Loki’s not Asgardian, is he?” Steve asked suddenly, turning to face Thor. “He’s a Frost Giant.”

Thor tensed, his jaw clenching. Slowly, he nodded. “It is true. That is why he is able to control the Casket of Ancient Winters. Though his true parentage does not matter to me, I fear it was a blow to Loki to learn the truth.”

The box, Steve thought. He hadn’t known, he couldn’t have known. The image of the pain on Loki’s face flashed into in his mind with perfect clarity. He had to sit down, burying his face in his hands. Forcing Loki to reveal that he was a Frost Giant had destroyed everything that Steve had tried to do, all the progress he’d made in trying to show Loki what it meant to be human.

“There’s something you should know, Steve.” Gently, Natasha placed her hand on his arm. “While you were recovering, Loki went after HYDRA.”

Steve started, looking up in a sudden panic. “What happened?”

“He killed them all. Every lab, every safe house. He took them apart and burned HYDRA down around their ears.”

The sickness returned and intensified. Not because he didn’t understand; he understood perfectly. But the thought of Loki killing again made his stomach twist. “SHIELD?”

“Fury thinks he’s dangerous. He wants to go after him.”

“Don’t,” Steve said quickly. “You don’t know…you don’t get it. None of you get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Natasha asked.

Steve stood up, pulling away from Natasha. “I had a chance to save him. We had a chance. And we blew it.”

“Do you truly believe my brother can be saved?” Thor asked earnestly.

Steve had no answer for that. Suddenly, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be as far away from the Avengers and Stark Tower as he could. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

Tony motioned to the couch, glaring Clint out of the way. “You need rest, that’s all. Just sit down and take a few deep breaths.”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I mean the Avengers. I can’t do this anymore. I quit.”

**

It took Steve less than an hour to pack up his clothes and belongings, everything he wanted to take with him. Natasha brought him a couple empty boxes from the lab and didn’t say a word as she helped him fill them. She helped him carry them down and load them into the trunk of the taxi, still silent.

Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. “Thank you, Natasha.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” she whispered.

“Stay safe.” He hugged her for another moment and then climbed into the taxi, leaving her standing on the sidewalk outside Stark Tower.

The taxi driver took him to Memorial Tower and helped him unload the boxes. One of the security guards helped him get everything into the elevator and welcomed him back. It had been a year since he’d been inside the penthouse apartment. He let himself in and listened to the silence. Part of him had hoped, if not expected, to find Loki there. 

He reorganized a shelf in the living room to make room for his books and cleared out space in the bedroom closet for his clothes. The shield cuff links stayed in their velvet box and went into the back of a drawer in the dresser. The menu for Loki’s favorite Chinese restaurant was still on the door of the refrigerator; he ordered dinner. As he ate, he stared out the windows at the city and watched the skies darken into twilight.

It was almost midnight when he started cleaning. A year had gone by and, in the apartment, time hadn’t stood still. He wiped away layers of dust, vacuumed, and scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen until they gleamed. In the kitchen, he sorted through cupboards and cabinets and threw away everything past its expiration date. He emptied the contents of the refrigerator and tackled it with bleach and a scrub brush. He would go out for groceries in the morning.

With only a couple short hours before dawn, he showered to wash away the dust and grime, and finally collapsed into the bed. He spun his wedding ring around his finger as he lay there, waiting for sleep to come. In his mind, he carefully examined the memory of Loki standing with the Casket of Ancient Winters in his hands. Against the dark blue skin of his left hand, there had been a silver band on his ring finger; Loki still wore his wedding ring. 

Maybe there was still hope.

It was late morning when he woke, alone in the bed. He dressed and carefully made a list of everything he needed to do. It took him several hours and multiple trips to several small grocery stores to find everything he was looking for, but he was pleased with the end result once the cupboards were stocked. He found a nice set of dinnerware; Loki had maintained only what was necessary and that included little more than eating utensils, wine glasses, and coffee mugs. He’d found a laptop computer that must’ve been Loki’s while he was cleaning, but was reluctant to open it. He left it on the kitchen counter until he could decide what to do with it.

He spent the next several days settling in and exploring the apartment. Although he remembered that Loki had played music, it took him some time to find the stereo system and figure out how to use it. Yet another reminder that Loki had been far more comfortable with modern technology than he was. He discovered a flat screen television in the bedroom and eventually found the remote controls. One evening, he fiddled with the gas fireplace until he finally got the flames to leap up from the glass marbles, dancing in a slender line.

Pepper left him a voicemail saying she hoped he was doing well and that they missed him. She didn’t ask him to come back to the tower. After he’d been there a week, Bruce called and left a message that they were closer to finding a way to safely bring Bucky out of cryosleep.

Once he was happy with the changes he’d made and the apartment was beginning to feel like home, he took the elevator to the fourth floor and found Mr. Hodson’s law office.

“Captain Rogers.” Mr. Hodson stood to shake his hand. If possible, he looked older, and his silver hair and beard had grown. “What can I help you with?”

Steve settled into the chair. “I haven’t really been involved in what Logan left behind. I’m sorry.”

“It’s no trouble, Captain Rogers. I was well paid to manage Mr. Keyes assets while he was alive. I assure you that I’m equally well paid now.” His blue eyes sparkled when he smiled. “Mr. Keyes was a very thorough man.”

“Do you remember the envelope he asked you to hold onto?”

“I believe so.” Mr. Hodson got up and pulled out the thick folder for Loki’s account. He pulled the envelope out and slid it across the desk. He held out a letter opener as well. “May I assume that you are no longer with the Avengers?”

Steve took a deep breath. He accepted the letter opener and reached for the envelope. He didn’t really have any guesses as to what was inside. “I’d prefer if you didn’t tell anyone, but yes. I quit.”

“What will you do now? If I may ask.”

“I’m going to finish what he started. If you’ll help me.” Steve sliced through the sealed end of the envelope. 

The stack of papers slid out into his hand and he frowned, not understanding what it meant. There were slick brochures as well as thick, legal looking documents. He placed those back on the desk immediately, hoping that Mr. Hodson could help him understand. The rest appeared to be information about various universities and art schools; there were several letters from university officials thanking Loki for his generosity and hoping for further collaboration in the future.

“Ah,” Mr. Hodson said, as though he finally understood. “This explains the 29th floor.”

“It does?” Steve looked up from the brightly colored brochures. He had no idea what any of it meant.

“The 29th floor is empty, at Mr. Keyes’ request. It wasn’t even completely finished. These are his plans for turning that floor into an artist studio and gallery.” Mr. Hodson placed a set of reading glasses on his nose and folded back several of the pages. “Everything is in your name, so the final approval of the design and project will be up to you. It appears he wished to leave you the option of retaining it for your own work or opening it up to students and new artists. There is the option of setting up scholarship opportunities as well, for both art and architecture.”

Steve looked down at the brochures. “I never finished my degree.”

“Should you wish to continue your education, no doubt any of the schools that Mr. Keyes contacted would be happy to accept you. Or any school of your choosing, for that matter.”

“Go back to school?” he asked, more to himself than Mr. Hodson. It seemed an impossibly bizarre and utterly normal idea, so far away from the life he’d known as an Avenger. He ran his fingers over the scrawling writing on the envelope: _Open when you are no longer an Avenger_. Maybe that was the point. Loki had made sure that, once he was gone, Steve would have a chance at a new life, a different life.

“If you would like, we might just be able to get you into spring semester. I’ll make some phone calls. You’ll have to do a bit of catch up as the semester has already begun.”

“I don’t want special treatment,” Steve said quickly.

“It’s hardly special treatment if the university gains both monetarily and in reputation by your attendance.”

“But,” Steve hesitated. He felt out of his depth and out of his element, but that had been the point. That’s why he’d left Stark Tower and left the Avengers; to have a different life. The War was long over. He took a deep breath. “Okay. But I don’t want someone to say yes just because of who I am or who Logan was.”

Mr. Hodson nodded. “Do you have a portfolio? Works that you would be willing to submit as part of an admissions package?”

Steve laughed, realizing the bind that he’d just put himself in. “I have about a hundred sketches of Logan.” 

There was a twinkle of amusement in Mr. Hodson’s eyes. “Pull together your favorites and we’ll get started.”

In the end, he submitted only one. He took a smaller sketch of Loki sitting crossways in the leather armchair, his long legs hanging over the side, with a beer in his hands. It was the Christmas that they’d watched _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. It was a good memory. He reworked the sketch onto a larger, flexible canvas and added details of the background and hints of color with pastels. It was a strangely intimate portrait of Loki; he looked normal and utterly human.

“Why this one?” Mr. Hodson asked when Steve brought it down to the lawyer’s office.

“It was a good night. A good memory, for me at least. It was our first Christmas together, sort of.” He didn’t mention that it was the first time Loki had kissed him; the first time Steve had realized why he was always tangled up and tongue-tied around Loki. “Christmas was always ours, I guess. Even when I didn’t see him the rest of the year, he was there for Christmas. Just show up out of nowhere like nothing had changed. At least, he did before…before he died.”

“You are very talented, Captain Rogers.” Mr. Hodson carefully returned the canvas. “Your student record is very unusual, as expected, but I believe that I’ve been able to smooth the way. There are documents for you to sign and you have an appointment with the Department Chair of the Institute of Fine Arts.”

It was the first time Steve had been truly excited about his future in a long time.

**

School kept Steve busy.

He finished spring semester and started summer classes. In the evenings, he spent hours pouring over legal documents and trying to understand as Mr. Hodson patiently explained to him what it would take to continue Loki’s charitable foundation for the Chitauri victims’ families. Gradually, he was able to take more responsibility of the day to day work of managing everything Loki had left behind.

Construction on the 29th floor started in June. He marked out a large open space in the center for a gallery, planned out spaces for storage, sinks, a small kitchen and bathroom area. The outer spaces where there were windows and natural light, he set aside for studio and working space. One would be his; the others would be used by students who had received fellowships from the Logan Keyes Art and Architecture Foundation. Mr. Hodson had questioned the name, but Steve had insisted. This was Loki’s legacy, not Captain America’s and certainly not Steve Rogers’. He discovered that his favorite part was selecting furniture pieces for his own studio area, trying to anticipate what he might want to do and work on in the space.

Tony invited him to Stark Tower for his birthday and Fourth of July fireworks.

Steve replied by inviting them to Memorial Tower to celebrate. All but Clint arrived that evening. Steve met them at the base of the memorial and took them on a tour of the 29th floor first, talking happily about his studio and the students who would be working there in the fall.

He’d made changes to the penthouse apartment as well, softening some of the modern, industrial edges and making it a more welcoming space. Loki’s models were still intact and he’d framed and hung some of the architectural drawings on the walls. The only pictures he had of him and Loki together were the ones that had been printed in newspapers and magazines; he’d framed a few of those as well. He kept it simple; there was beer, wine, and bowls of popcorn and tortilla chips. He’d ordered a cake large enough for the Hulk.

“So you haven’t seen him?” Natasha asked as she accepted a glass of wine.

“No.” Steve kept pouring, handing the second glass to Pepper. “But if he ever comes home, I’ll be here.”

“I still can’t believe you own a building. This building. I can’t even rent space in this building and I’m Tony Stark.” Tony looked around, trying not to appear impressed. “The view isn’t as good as mine.”

Steve shrugged, trying not to laugh at Tony’s pretense of a wounded ego. “Not bad for a kid from Brooklyn.” 

“We’re happy for you, Steve.” Pepper slipped her arm through Tony’s. “You seem very happy here and you’re doing amazing work with the Foundation.”

“I have a good lawyer.” Steve raised his wine glass. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”

Natasha clinked her glass against his. “Clint will come around, you’ll see.”

“He thought he was doing the right thing, I get it.” Leaning back against the counter, Steve swirled the wine around his glass.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Tony mused. He and Pepper were eying one of the architectural drawings on the wall.

“What about you?” Steve asked. “Have you seen him? SHIELD? Or am I not allowed to know?”

“Nothing,” Natasha said with a quick shake of her head. “And Fury’s been looking. He hates that Loki can just disappear into the wind and SHIELD can’t find him.”

Steve suppressed the urge to smile. “Still working on a way to track him, Tony?”

“Nope. Not even if Fury personally begs me to,” Tony said cheerfully. “I’m on to more interesting and less frustrating projects. Besides, now that you don’t live in my tower, I’m not worried about Loki coming and going at all hours of the day or night. Think you’ll have a vacation coming up? We were talking about going back to California, the whole gang back together. Now that the Bifrost is repaired, even Thor gets an invite.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve answered.

“All I can ask.”

Pepper steered the conversation to a gallery showing that she was organizing. She was hoping that Steve would be there as a co-organizer this time and thought it might be a good opportunity for the Fellowship students. He spent nearly an hour discussing details with her. They made it through half of the enormous cake and went through two more bottles of wine before the fireworks lit up the sky. Once it was over, he accompanied them down to the street and got them all safely into taxis to return to Stark Tower.

Bruce, who had been typically quiet the entire evening, was the last to go. He held out his hand, a little awkwardly, and thanked Steve for inviting him.

“How are things at the Tower, really?” Steve asked.

One side of Bruce’s lips turned up in a half-smile. “I think even JARVIS misses you.” He waited a beat and then shoved his hands into his pockets. “You made the right call, though. Coming here, getting on with your life. Hold on to this as long as it lasts.”

Steve considered that. “You think SHIELD will try to get me to come back.”

“They got me, didn’t they?”

“I hung up my shield, Dr. Banner.”

“And I hope this lasts as long as you need it to, I really do.” He gestured to the building towering above them.

“Thanks.”

Steve waved as Bruce got into a taxi and it pulled away from the curb. He headed back inside and settled onto one of the benches, staring up at the monument. During the spring and summer, the space where the monument stood was full of trees and flowers. It became a literal garden and he felt as though he had somehow escaped the city itself when he was there. Looking up at the larger than life statue of Captain America and the Avengers still felt strange; the names of the dead carved into the black granite were still sobering. 

He realized that he’d forgotten to call Anna and invite her and her family. It was late now, too late to call a home with young children. He decided that he’d call first thing in the morning.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Mr. Hodson stepped out in his perfect black suit. He saw Steve and headed in his direction, taking a seat on the bench next to him. “I trust your birthday celebrations went well.”

“Well enough,” Steve answered. “You’re here awfully late.”

“There is a great deal to get done.” He seemed to relax as he stared up at the monument. “I don’t believe that I have ever asked you what you think of this. I would think it would be strange to see one’s self as a sculpture.”

“I think my favorite part is the trees, actually.” Steve motioned to the space around them. “Especially for the holidays when they’re decorated with lights. The rest? I can’t even imagine what he sacrificed to create all of this. Months of sleepless nights at the least; blood, sweat, and tears. He barely got to enjoy any of it.”

“I am sure he would say it was worth it,” Mr. Hodson said kindly.

“I hope so.” Steve leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, turning his wedding band around on his finger.

“And what about you?” Mr. Hodson nodded toward his hands. “You are a young man with your whole life ahead of you.”

“Why not move on? Find someone else?” Steve finished for him. He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“It will take time, perhaps.”

“Until the end of the Nine Realms, until the Gods fall at Ragnarok and, even after that, when there is nothing left of me but a ghost, I will love him still.” He caught the look of surprise on Mr. Hodson’s face and sat up straight, smiling. “I have everything I need, Mr. Hodson. I’m going to finish what he started and I’m going live the life he wanted for me. That’s what matters now.”

“And being Captain America?” Mr. Hodson asked, his voice careful and gentle. “That no longer matters to you?”

“It does. I’m sure there will be a day when Captain America will be needed and I’ll have to help. But I will always come back.” He nodded to the monument and everything around them. “I made a promise to always come back and I didn’t keep that promise. Not at first. But I am now. This is my home and I can wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Mr. Hodson looked at him, obviously puzzled. “I hope you are not waiting in vain, Captain.”

Steve took a deep breath and stood up. “Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to.”

A smile spread across Mr. Hodson’s face. “Miracle on 34th Street.”

Steve nodded. “Don’t work so hard, Mr. Hodson. Life is too short not to enjoy it.” He said good-night and headed back to the apartment.

The rest of the summer blurred into fall. He took Anna and her kids to Coney Island one weekend and was surprised to see Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce there. They ate funnel cake and cotton candy until they couldn’t take any more sugar. Sophie fell asleep on his shoulder as they walked back to the parking lot.

Natasha nudged Steve gently with her elbow and pointed to where Anna and Bruce were walking together, their heads bent together as they laughed over something.

“Could be trouble,” Natasha said quietly.

“Don’t meddle,” he said sharply, then immediately regretted his tone.

She looked up at him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He lowered his voice and kept it soft. “Anna knows who Bruce is. She’s not pretending he’s anything else.”

“Are we talking about her or you?”

Steve didn’t answer. When they reached the car, he settled Sophie into her car seat and said his goodbyes. Before Natasha could disappear into the crowd, he caught her and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You know I hate it when you do this,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

He tousled her hair as he let go. “Why do you think I do it?” 

She swatted at his hand. “Hey! I can break that wrist, Captain America or not.”

“We should do this again sometime,” he said, loud enough for all of them to hear. They were still his family. His strange, weird, insane family of people who were all a little too messed up on their own. “And next time, bring Clint.”

**

Summer classes turned into Fall semester and he met the four Fellowship students who would be working on the 29th floor with him; Marin, Joseph, Sachin, and Veruca. He felt awkward and inadequate, being no further along in the degree program than they were. After the first few minutes, he realized they didn’t know who he was and thought he was just another Fellowship student; he chose not to correct them. Without the years spent in the ice, he wasn’t that much older than they were. It was a much different working dynamic than he’d known at Stark Tower and he found himself amused and frustrated by them in equal amounts.

One night after they’d gone home and he was still struggling to capture the colors of the autumn leaves, he was surprised to look up and see Mr. Hodson peering through the doorway of his studio.

“Hey, come in.” Steve waved him in. “Just mind the paint.”

“It’s coming along well.” Mr. Hodson motioned to the painting.

“I’m trying.” Steve sat back on his painter’s stool and set the brush aside. “My first time painting with oil colors. It’s a challenge.”

“How are the Fellowship students doing?”

Steve laughed. “I can’t believe I was ever that young and naïve. I feel like an old man around them. But they’ve got such energy. It’s good to see them be able to do what they love. Good to be a part of making that happen.” He decided that he’d had enough for the day and closed up all the tubes of paint. “How’s the weregeld going?”

“Are you certain that is what you wish to call it?”

“Not in public.” Steve smiled as headed to the utility sink to scrub at the paint on his hands and arms. “Do I have paint on my face?”

“A little.”

“Could you? I should’ve thought to install mirrors.” He held out a wet washcloth.

Mr. Hodson stared at him for a moment before he took the cloth and rubbed at a spot on Steve’s cheek. “This is hardly in my job description.”

“You are very well paid.” Steve winked as he took the cloth back and continued scrubbing at his skin. “Did you need something?”

“A man is waiting for you downstairs.”

Steve stopped. There was something cold in Mr. Hodson’s voice that he had never heard before. Lyle was always warm and welcoming, there wasn’t a single ill-tempered bone in the man’s body; he reminded Steve of a skinny Santa Claus. “Who is it?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall. Wears an eye patch.”

Steve sighed, knowing immediately who it was. “I see. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Should I expect to see Captain America in the newspaper tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Steve shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry his hands. “But this assignment is due on Monday so SHIELD will have to make it quick. I want to go over last quarter’s information on the Foundation before Monday though. If I’m back by Sunday, would you have time? I don’t want to take you away from your family.”

“That would be fine,” Mr. Hodson said smoothly.

“I’ve never met your family.”

His smile was sad. “My wife passed years ago and we weren’t blessed with children.”

“Well, consider me family then, if you’d like to. I’d like that.” Steve put his hand on Mr. Hodson’s shoulder for a moment. 

“You are a good man, Captain Rogers.”

Steve grinned. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

**

The familiar weight of the shield on Steve’s arm felt like coming home. 

Their mission was simple enough; stop Doom from stealing equipment from a laboratory in southern California. Like all of Doom’s attacks, they were pretty sure there were at least two alternate plots beneath the obvious, but knew it would probably be long after that they figured it all out. For the immediate goal of protecting the scientists and their work, it didn’t matter all that much what Doom had going in the background.

Steve chose to walk the perimeter, keeping his eyes and ears open, while Tony was inside with Hulk. Clint took the bird’s eye perch on the top of the build and Natasha was the first line of defense once the inevitable Doombots showed themselves. Thor was an unexpected last minute addition. From the look in his eyes, Steve guessed that Thor was here for more than Doom and groaned inwardly when he announced that he would accompany Steve. The God of Thunder was a lot of things; stealthy was not among them.

Thor didn’t last five minutes before he asked the question that Steve knew was coming.

“Have you word of my brother, Captain Rogers?”

“No,” Steve answered briskly. “What about you? I guess Heimdall isn’t having any better luck than JARVIS.”

“If you mean that Heimdall has not been able to find my brother, you are correct.” Thor continued to walk beside Steve for several minutes. “Do you still have hope that he will return to you?”

“Yes.”

“You are a man of extraordinary forgiveness, Captain,” Thor said somberly. “I fear that none in Asgard believe there is any hope for Loki.”

“Good thing this isn’t Asgard.”

“I regret that I was not,” Thor hesitated. “That I was not able to attend your nuptials. I was not aware of the event.”

Steve stopped and turned to Thor. “We all assumed that you knew he was here and just didn’t care.”

“Didn’t care?” Thor repeated with disbelief. “My brother has cloaked himself from Heimdall’s sight all this time. It was only when the Casket was used that he revealed himself to us.”

Steve frowned. “Loki was just as confused as to why you didn’t come for him as the rest of us.”

Thor’s brow furrowed as he considered that. When he spoke again, his voice was low and sad. “Then my brother has believed that I did not care enough to look for him. That is what you are telling me. I did not even know he was on Midgard until that day.”

“I suppose you didn’t know that your father had him whipped and thrown from the Bifrost either.” The memory stirred Steve’s anger; he had to turn and start walking to keep it from boiling over.

“That, I knew,” Thor said wearily.

“I won’t pretend to understand your realm, Thor, but I don’t like bullies.”

“It was not as cruel as you believe. My father’s justice could have been far worse. Many believed that Loki should have been executed for his crimes.”

Steve bit down any reply he might have given and continued walking along the fence line. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Thor; he absolutely believed that it could’ve been worse. And the Asgardians called the Frost Giants monsters. He shuddered to think what could’ve happened to Loki. 

“Would you consider returning to Asgard with me, Captain?” Thor asked quietly. “It would only be for a short time, I promise. I would not keep you from your work.”

“What for?”

“My mother, the Queen, wishes to meet her son’s husband.”

Steve nearly choked as he inhaled. “I don’t…that’s. Thor, Loki and I were only married for a week before he disappeared. That’s not even a long marriage by Earth’s standards, let alone Asgard’s.”

“Yet you still wear the ring and you have taken no other partner. The Lady Pepper explained the significance of these rings to me.” Thor sounded almost hopeful. “And you believe that my brother can be saved. There is little I can tell my mother that would ease her heartache when it comes to Loki, but you saw goodness him.”

Stopping to take a deep breath, Steve tried to decide what he could possibly tell Thor. He couldn’t go to Asgard without Loki, he simply couldn’t. It would feel like a betrayal when Loki discovered where he’d gone and why.

“Guys,” Clint’s voice buzzed in Steve’s ear. “As interesting as this conversation is, and believe me, we’re all riveted, could you maybe focus on the perimeter?”

Steve closed his eyes, cringing. He’d forgotten that the comms were live.

Tony chimed in next. “Hey, bird brain. Some of us were enjoying it. Next on The Avengers, will the lovelorn Steve go to Asgard? When will Loki return and will he be a homicidal maniac when he does? Tune in next Tuesday to find out.”

“Doom is late,” Steve said sourly.

Thirty seconds later, nearly a third of the fence line exploded into a wall of fire. Steve and Thor were both thrown back with the force of the blast. Something heavy and slimy rolled up Steve’s arms and legs. As he struggled to move, it seemed to constrict and bind around him more tightly. In moments, he couldn’t move at all. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Thor was just as caught by the strange substance. His ears were ringing from the blast and his vision was fuzzy; he must’ve hit his head when he landed. Unable to move, he tried to hold as still as possible so the ooze wouldn’t tighten enough to prevent him from breathing.

The black goo kept Steve and Thor immobilized. There wasn’t much more they could do other than watch as the fighting began around them. Doombots seemed to appear from nowhere. Tony darted in and out, blasting them as they tried to cut or smash their way into the building. Arrows flew down from the roof and took out leg joints and sensors, leaving the Doombots limping and blinded. 

It felt like hours before the last Doombot crashed to the ground.

“What is that stuff?” Natasha asked. 

The others stared down at Steve and Thor with looks of disgust on their face. Bruce was the last to appear, adjusting his clothes and trying to untangle his hair. 

“A little help?” Steve asked.

Clint poked at the layer of goo with one of his arrows. It reacted by latching on to the arrow tip and starting up the shaft. Clint let out a shout and jumped back. The goo continued to climb until it completely covered the arrow.

“Ok, don’t touch it,” Tony said. “Any ideas, Banner?”

Bruce knelt down to get a better look, careful not to touch the substance. “It’s organic. AIM probably.”

“Since when does Doom work with AIM?”

“Maybe he stole it.”

Natasha snapped her fingers to get Tony’s attention. “How he got it doesn’t matter right now. How do we get it off of them?”

“We need a sample and a way to get them inside. If it’s organic, we’ll start with acid.”

Steve felt his heartbeat speed up. “Acid?” 

“Look.” Natasha pointed to Steve’s shield. “It covered the arrow but not Steve’s shield. It didn’t like Mjolnir either.” She tipped her head to the side. “Your left hand is free too, Steve. What’s your wedding band made of?”

“Adamantium.”

Tony scowled with annoyance. “That is so unfair. Where does Loki get his hands on this stuff? Thor, you can probably use Mjolnir to fry the black ooze on you, but that won’t work on Steve without resulting in one very crispy Captain America. Clint, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’ll make a call.”

Steve was not reassured. “You’re not calling who I think you’re calling, are you? Clint? Clint!” 

He winced at the flash of lightning that drove down from the sky and sizzled when it hit the black goo around Thor. Thick, oily smoke roiled up into the air. It smelled acrid and fetid; Steve had to hold his breath to keep from coughing and gagging against the stench. Blackened and charred bits of goo sloughed off as Thor climbed to his feet, shaking himself free as he went.

“What is this foul substance?” Thor demanded.

“We’ll know soon enough.” Bruce was already collecting samples of the charred goo.

Clint returned, sliding his phone away into a pocket. “SHIELD sent a plane to pick him up.”

Tony grinned down at Steve. “Hang in there, caterpillar, you’ll be a butterfly soon.” 

Six hours later, Steve grudgingly thanked Wolverine for cutting him out of the goo and they finished sealing up all the bits of it in impermeable plastic bags. He climbed back into the quinjet wanting nothing more than a hot shower and his bed.

Once they were in the air, Clint sat down beside him with one of Tony’s tablet displays. “This came in fifteen minutes ago.”

It was satellite footage, but Steve couldn’t make out what he was looking at other than it was a large stone structure. Bright light streaked across the sky and struck the heart of the building. The explosion was instantaneous; Steve could see the devastation sweep out with the shock wave and the building was leveled in moments.

“Where is this?” Steve asked.

“That was the castle of Victor von Doom in Latveria. Officially, it was an asteroid hit.” Clint tapped at the display, readjusting the view.

“Someone attacked Doom? Maybe he did steal that stuff.” Steve frowned at her. “That could’ve been a missile. HYDRA?”

“Nothing left of HYDRA. But I do know someone whose husband is a badass Frost Giant, a little short on sanity and just a little bit possessive. You might want to work on that.”

“You think Loki did that? Why?”

Clint shrugged. “HYDRA nearly killed you and he tore them apart down to the bricks and mortar. Doom attacks, you get slimed, and then Doom’s castle is blown to kingdom come? I doubt we’re lucky enough that Doom was actually home, but it can’t be a coincidence, Cap.”

Steve didn’t know if he should be flattered or terrified. It was also the first conversation he’d had with Clint since he’d moved out of Stark Tower. “Don’t tell Thor. If he thinks Loki is going after people who try to harm me, he’ll be impossible.”

“Asgard isn’t your idea of a vacation?”

“Asgard isn’t Loki’s home and they aren’t his family. Not anymore.” The ferocity in his voice surprised Steve as much as it surprised Clint.

Clint cleared the tablet, still not looking at Steve. “I was out of line.”

Steve leaned back into the jump seat. He should’ve known tonight would be the night that everyone wanted to talk to him. “You were right, actually. I would try to protect him even though he doesn’t need it. At least, not from this kind of thing.”

“Are we good?” Clint asked. He sounded almost afraid.

Steve smiled and closed his eyes. “We’re good.” 

**

To appease Thor, Steve offered an alternative to returning to Asgard with him. He invited Thor to visit him for Christmas and to extend the invitation to the Queen as well. Thor didn’t know what Christmas was but needed only to be told that it was a celebration involving food to think that was an excellent idea.

Steve put it out of his mind once he was back in New York City. 

By the end of September, the last details of Loki’s weregeld Foundation had been finalized and he was well into the series of paintings he was making for his composition class; the theme was autumn in New York. Mr. Hodson started bringing paperwork into the studio rather than having Steve come down to the law office. Steve got less paint on Mr. Hodson’s desk and leather chairs that way. He pretended not to notice that Mr. Hodson enjoyed checking up on the Fellowship students’ work as well, particularly Veruca, who was studying architecture.

Steve bought a coffee maker for the studio, since he spent more time there than he did in the apartment above. He stocked sugar as well, for Mr. Hodson.

In November, a rogue AIM scientist dumped tons of the black goo on the streets of New York. This time, Clint got slimed. Bruce and Tony were ready for it, but it was still a very long day that left them all dirty and speckled with bits of the goo. 

Bruce stopped Steve as he was about to head home. “Hey. SHIELD thinks they’ve cracked the code for the Winter Soldier’s cryogenic chamber. I’ll let you know.”

Steve smiled all the way home, his steps lighter than before.

A week later, he got the call that they’d successfully revived Bucky. He was weak, disoriented, and his memories were scattered; he didn’t recognize Steve at all. Even so, it was more than Steve could’ve hoped for. Physically, Bucky was stable and that was a start. SHIELD was going to keep him close for awhile, until they fully understood the electronic enhancements he’d undergone and what mental conditioning he’d been subjected to.

Steve could wait for Bucky to remember. He was getting good at waiting.

The following Sunday morning, Steve returned to Stark Tower and had waffles ready when the others woke up. A deal was a deal.

**

Steve stuck his head into Mr. Hodson’s office the day before Christmas Eve. “Hey.”

“Captain Rogers. Is there something you need?”

“Just thought I’d invite you for dinner on Christmas Eve. Since you don’t have family and neither do I. No reason to be alone.”

“That is very kind of you, Captain.”

“Then I’ll see you at seven?”

“I don’t--”

“I’m not above begging.” Steve gave him his biggest smile. “It’s Christmas.”

“I would be delighted, Captain.”

“Great. See you at seven.”

**

Since the decorations had gone up in the atrium of Memorial Tower, Steve had spent hours sitting on the benches in front of the memorial. Sometimes, he took a sketchbook and other times he was content to merely sit. He drew the trees full of stars; he drew the awed faces of children who looked inside at the trees and the statues of the Avengers. Sitting with his sketchbook, he realized why Loki had placed the monument inside rather than leaving it open to the elements. When people stepped inside to see it, tourists mostly, they became quiet and lowered their voices as though they had stepped into a cherished cathedral rather than an office building. The trees and plants also muffled the sounds of people moving around.

Steve was sitting in the atrium on Christmas Eve, finishing up a sketch, when Thor and Tony came through the door behind him.

“And here you go,” Tony said with a flourish.

Thor looked up at the monument. “My brother did this? It is magnificent.” 

Steve jumped to his feet. “Hey, guys. Did something happen?”

“I am here for your Christmas.” Thor was still transfixed by the statues. He moved forward to touch the stone. “These names.”

“Everyone who died that day,” Tony answered.

Steve hurriedly gathered up his sketchbook and pencils, shoving them into the messenger bag he carried them in. “I wasn’t really expecting you until tomorrow.”

Tony said something under his breath that sounded like, “No calendars on Asgard.”

“And the Queen?” Steve asked Thor.

“She chose to wait.” Thor didn’t elaborate and it was several more minutes before he pulled his attention away from the memorial. “This is truly amazing. And the building!” He held his arms out to his sides to indicate the building around them. “It looks as though it was brought from Asgard itself. It reminds me of the palace. I can scarcely believe it.”

Steve had already guessed at the inspiration for the extremely unusual architecture. “Why don’t you come up? I wasn’t planning anything fancy. Chinese takeout for dinner and my lawyer is coming over.”

“You’re spending Christmas Eve with your lawyer?” Tony looked horrified at the thought.

“He’s also a friend.” Steve led them to the elevator and turned his key in the slot. With Thor in the elevator, it felt unusually crowded. 

He left controlling Thor to Tony, which was equal parts amusing and worrying, and headed to the kitchen. He pulled down the sturdiest mug he had for Thor and a tumbler for Tony. Ice cubes and scotch went into both. Tony seemed surprised, but pleased, when he accepted his glass. Thor was fascinated with the models of the buildings that Loki had worked on and merely carried the mug with him as he moved from model to model.

Steve set out two wine glasses and filled them with a deep burgundy merlot that he’d discovered. The clock of the microwave had almost reached seven.

“He looks happy,” Thor said, his voice full of wonder. He’d moved on to the framed paparazzi pictures of Steve and Loki the day they got married. “I have not seen him smile this way in many years. Perhaps not since we were children.”

When Steve switched on the lights to the Christmas tree, Thor was immediately drawn to it. He touched the branches and ornaments carefully. “This tree is of significance to your people?”

“It’s a Christmas tree. It’s traditional,” Tony answered.

“Five such trees have appeared in my mother’s garden in Asgard. They remain only a few days. The last appeared just before I left. We have not known where they come from. This time, the branches were filled with white birds and crystal stars that glimmer. Although we thought them strange at first, they have become a source of much joy for my mother. Now I see that they must have come from my brother.”

Steve carefully pushed one of the presents lying beneath the tree out of the path of Thor’s boots. “Christmas is about family.”

The doorknob turned. Steve hurried back to the kitchen, picked up the wine glasses and waited.

Mr. Hodson entered. He’d taken several steps into the room when he stopped, frozen. Both Thor and Tony turned. 

Tony raised his glass. “You must be Steve’s lawyer.”

Thor’s mug tumbled from his hands, splashing scotch and ice over the floor, as he sprang forward. “Loki?” He clasped Mr. Hodson’s shoulders with a strength that should’ve knocked a sixty year old man to the ground. Mr. Hodson merely swayed a little. “If Father knew that you wore his face as a mask! You may have fooled the good Captain, but you cannot fool me, brother. Captain Rogers, I believe Loki has played a trick on you. This is no lawyer; it is my brother in disguise.”

“I know,” Steve said simply. All three men stared at him with surprise. He moved forward, holding out the second glass of wine. “This wasn’t actually the plan. Sorry.”

Mr. Hodson shifted. He grew taller and his silver hair darkened to black, the thick beard disappeared; blue eyes turned to green. Loki accepted the glass of wine. “How long have you known?”

“I think part of me always knew.” Steve raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. He hadn’t finished planning out everything he was going to say. “After the power plant, I was sure. After you stopped messing with my head to make sure I kept believing you were dead.”

Loki looked down into his glass of wine. “I thought it better if you thought me dead.”

“And you were wearing your wedding ring that day.” Steve motioned to the ring on Loki’s finger. “That made me realize how much you’d done to make sure what you’d started would keep going after you disappeared. That you’d made sure I would be taken care of. That’s why you wanted to get married, because you already knew what you were going to do and being married made it easier. Legally. You faked your death so I wouldn’t come after you, but I realized you would’ve found a way to stay nearby. Being my lawyer was the perfect cover.”

Loki took a deep breath. His face was a dispassionate mask, but Steve could see the frayed edges and the dark circles under his eyes. “And you said nothing. All this time.”

“I had to prove myself.”

Frowning, Loki finally met his gaze directly, his eyes searching Steve’s face. He looked half-terrified and braced for pain. “I do not understand.”

“You did all of this.” He motioned to room around them and beyond. “And I know you don’t think it’s enough, but it’s enough for me. It’s always been enough for me. You didn’t have to earn my trust, I had to earn yours. That’s what I’ve been trying to do. And maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong. I wanted to show you that I was here, that I would be here, when you were ready to come back. That I believed in what you started and that I love you.”

“How can you?” Loki asked, his voice jagged with emotion. “I am a monster.”

“Because you’re a Frost Giant? It doesn’t matter. I know you thought it would. You thought that after I saw you as a Frost Giant that day, I would turn away or reject you because of it. But I haven’t, I’m not. I’m right here, Loki. All I want is for you to come home.”

He saw the moment that something inside Loki shattered and he stepped forward to wrap his arms around him. Loki pressed his face against Steve’s shoulder, shaking and holding on tightly. Steve held him, rubbing one hand over Loki’s back and neck, trying to soothe him. Carefully, he set the wine glasses on one of the bookshelves without letting go.

Tony cleared his throat. “We should probably go, big guy. I think they've got some catching up to do.”

“Must we?” Thor asked, his voice sad and wistful.

Steve carded his fingers through Loki’s hair and lifted his head. “Do you remember that little island? Think you can find it again?”

Loki nodded. A moment later, the world spun and fell away and Steve held onto Loki as if he was the only solid ground in the entire universe. Warm air wrapped around them and, suddenly, the ground under his feet was soft, giving way with his weight. The unsteady surface made him sink to his knees, pulling Loki with him. For a long time, they stayed that way, locked together in an embrace as the sun set behind them. Steve was half-afraid to let go, afraid it was another dream.

When Loki’s hands pulled at him, he reached down to brace himself and his fingers met soft fabric instead of sand. He didn’t ask where it had come from, simply moved to the side and gently pressed Loki down onto the blanket beneath him. His lips brushed against Loki’s and it felt like the first drink of water he’d had after days in the desert. He caught at Loki’s lower lip, nipping with his teeth and teasing the tip of his tongue against the inside. 

“Please come home,” he whispered, his words and breath lost against Loki’s mouth. His hands tugged at the buttons of Loki’s shirt, anxious to strip away the fabric between them. “I miss you. I miss this. I miss your skin and your hair and your lips. I miss the way you taste. I miss how you never shut up when we make love.”

Loki laughed and it was better than music. “I believe I get the point, yes.”

“Come home.”

Loki pressed his hand against Steve’s cheek and kissed him gently. “I am home.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This fic had many names. Then I realized that I was writing this and causing Steve a lot of emotional pain (sorry, Steve) because I was trying to deal with my own emotional pain. So, this fic ended up being a place for me to put my heartache. It seemed fitting to call it what it was.


End file.
